The Bond of Brothers
by Storm Music
Summary: A mysterious encounter with Narcissa Malfoy and her plea for his help leads to the uncovering of a long held secret, one that will drastically change Harry's life. Suddenly, he finds he has much in more in common with a certain Slytherin than he ever could have imagined… or wanted. H/G not DH compliant
1. Prologue

**The Bond of Brothers**

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling. I own nothing apart from the following plot. This applies to all following chapters.

**Warnings: **Language, War-related Violence (although not till later), some Dumbledore bashing

**A/N:** This is a rewrite of my fic A Beautiful and Terrible Truth. I was originally inspired by the fic Thrice Defied by Rae Kelly, although my plot is very different. This is canon through OotP, marginally compliant with several elements of HBP, totally disregards DH and the existence of Horcruxes, and contains an AU past during the Maurader's Era and the events leading up to Halloween 1981.

As far as pairings, the main will be Harry/Ginny, and I'm contemplating a possible Draco/Hermione and Ron/Luna, but I'm not sure. I've always been an H/G R/Hr shipper, so it's hard for me to even imagine writing anything else, but I just might for this story. Readers' opinions on this will be taken into account, so review and let me know what you'd like to see. Regardless, romance will not be the main focus. This story will **not** contain slash.

000

**Prologue:**

_August 1, 1980_

"Twins," The new mother whispered as she lay propped up in her hospital bed, two newborns cradled lovingly in her thin arms. "My two sons… I still can't believe it."

"They're beautiful, Cissy," A young woman with soft locks of red hair spoke up, smiling down at her dear friend. The messy haired man beside her nodded in agreement, eyes glued to the babies, slightly awestruck.

The mother looked up, smiling wearily. "Would you like to hold him?" She asked, using her eyes to indicate the child in her left arm.

The other woman bit her lip, a joyful expression shining in her eyes as she gently reached down and took the boy from his mother's arms. Reverently, she lifted the child up, holding him close to her chest. Her eyes roamed over the tiny, still wrinkled face. The man leaned over her shoulder to get a better look, his hand coming up to trace along the child's cheek.

"He's perfect," The man said warmly.

The mother smiled at the young couple, the two people she trusted most in this world, and her heart grew heavy. Sadness stole over her eyes as she said her next words.

"I'm glad you think so. He's yours."

Both the man and woman looked sharply down at her, the man's eyes confused, the woman's a mix of both hope and fear.

"What? You can't still intend to go through with the plan? He knows you were pregnant!" The man protested, confused. He cast a worried glance at his wife, knowing how much this was hurting her.

"Yes, he found out," The mother confirmed, grim determination on her face. "But he will be expecting only _one _child."

There was a moment of silence as the occupants of the room let the implication of those words sink in. The woman was the first to find her voice.

"But they are twins, brothers… it would be too cruel to separate them," She spluttered out in protest even though her heart was nearly bursting. Over the last months, she had grown to love the child promised to her before he was even born. The part of her that had died when she found out she couldn't have children of her own had started to come back to life. Then, only hours ago, their months of careful planning had seemingly been all for not. The pain of this failure and loss was still fresh, and her emotions were a confusing swarm as she tried to grasp this new possibility, this new plan created by the unexpected birth of two children instead of one.

The mother looked down to the baby boy she still held in her arms, tears of unfairness pooling in her pale eyes. "The only cruelness is that I can't save them both." She whispered.

"We can't…" The man began, but the mother sharply cut him off, her voice once again strong, unwavering.

"Yes, you can. That child is your son, not mine. He has been almost from the moment I found out I was pregnant. I carried him for you, for both of you. You _must_ take him… As for this child," She paused, gazing down at her second born son. "He is my miracle, a blessing and a curse. I will do my best to protect him."

The man looked to his wife and instantly knew that this is what she wanted more than anything in the world, understood that there would be no convincing the mother otherwise. Resolutely, he squeezed his wife's shoulders.

"We will protect him with our lives. You have our word," He swore, love already blossoming for his adoptive son.

"I know you will." The mother nodded, her thoughts growing dark as she thought of the war. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing, but she couldn't see another choice. She would be damned if both her sons were raised under the thumb of her husband and the sadistic man he served.

"Let's hope it does not come to that," She murmured, praying that her family would survive the coming years.

000

The rest of the chapters will be longer, though I'm not promising any consistent length. I've got the next two chapters written, and several later scenes written as well. Once I write two more chapters, I'll post the next chapter. It should be sometime this week.

I don't have a beta, so if you spot in grammar errors, please let me know. Admittedly, the technical side of writing is not my strongest.

All that's left to say is please review!


	2. Chapter 1

**The Bond of Brothers**

**A/N:** While this does use elements and certain events from HBP, please bear in mind that it does not make this story canon. This is not DH compliant nor is it compliant with the second half of HBP – meaning no Horcruxes.

And **thank you **to my reviewers! Kari Minamoto, sailorroxy, HarryPotterFan

Again, I just want to apologize for choosing to rewrite this story rather than continue the old version. Personally, I just felt it wasn't my best, and I really wanted to do the story justice. I wasn't inspired to write anymore, and trying to re read it I realized I had a lot of room for improvement. Hopefully, you all like this one just as much or even better than the last!

**Chapter One:**

_July 31, 1996 – 23:56_

He should be asleep. Ron certainly hadn't had any trouble drifting off if his muffled snores were anything to go by. He should be happy and content. Mrs. Weasley had certainly put in enough effort to make his birthday special. He should be grateful that he was at the Burrow, surrounded by people who considered him family. He most certainly shouldn't be only thinking about the people who weren't there, who'd never be there anymore.

Yet, as he laid in the dark, soft moonlight trickling in through the window, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to the Department of Mysteries. Memories of what he lost that night, of what he'd caused, would have been more than enough, but coupled with the haunting words of the prophecy, Harry found himself unable to think about little else.

He still didn't understand how words could hold such a sway over his life. It just didn't seem fair that he wasn't given a choice. What happened to the belief that each man decides his own fate? Well, he thought bitterly, he did have one choice – kill or be killed.

His friends knew something had happened between him and Dumbledore, and they'd tried on more than one occasion to get him to share it with them. Each time, however, he'd changed the subject or simply ignored them. He wasn't sure why he hadn't told them, the rational part of his mind telling him that they would stand by him no matter what. And yet, it was this very reason that made him afraid. His life was tied to the very black heart of the coming war, and he didn't want to see Ron and Hermione drug down with him.

Strangely, he found it harder to hold his tongue around Ginny. The two had grown closer since the Department of Mysteries. For the first time, he'd begun to realize that Ginny was much more than just his best mate's little sister. She was stronger than she looked, had a temper to match her fiery hair, and seemed to understand him better than anyone else. Lately, he found himself wanting to share everything with the girl, to tell her all his fears and doubts. But, if he was afraid to put Ron and Hermione in danger, he was terrified of pulling Ginny into the line of fire. She'd already been through enough because of Riddle, and he couldn't bear the thought of putting her in more pain.

He glanced over at the clock, noting that he had only one more minute left of his birthday.

_Born as the seventh month dies…_

The night whispered in his ears. He shut his eyes tight, breathing deeply to clear his mind. As sleep continued to evade him, he wished, as he'd done every night this summer, that he'd tried harder to learn Occlumency. Silently, he vowed that this next year would be different. He'd spent enough of his life reacting in defense. It was time to go on the offensive, even if he had to do it alone.

000

_July 31, 1996 – 23:59_

The firewhiskey burned all the way to the pit of her stomach, but the pain didn't deter her from taking another swig from her glass. She drank the disgusting liquid only once a year, and that was this night.

"Happy Birthday," She whispered into the empty room, her voice bitter, her face lined with defeat.

The years had not been kind to Narcissa Malfoy. Yes, she still looked every bit the part of the aristocratic, pure blood wife on the outside. That was all an act, however, a careful front she'd been putting up for most of her life. Just below the surface, a place no one bothered to look, was the portrait of a broken mother who had failed to protect the ones she loved.

Her thoughts drifted to the boy, for he was still a boy, who was sleeping in his bedroom two floors up. Hot anger made her vision flare. She'd known from the beginning that the Dark Lord was a sadistic bastard who cared for no one, obsessed with only his own power and the acquisition of more. She'd tried, Merlin knows she'd tried to shield Draco from him, from Lucius' foolish devotement to that madman. All through his childhood, she worked secretly behind her husbands back, trying to instill Draco with not only cleverness but morals, ones she knew he'd never learn from his father. And, although she could not blot out Lucius influence completely, she had been thankful that her son had been able to avoid direct involvement with the Dark Lord, even after his return.

That is, until two days ago.

Now her precious son had been branded with that monsters mark, and given a suicide mission in punishment for his father's failure.

Growling with rage - at herself, at her husband, at the Dark Lord - she through her now empty glass into the barren grate where it smashed into a dozen jagged pieces.

"Bluffy!" She called out, and a second later a small house elf popped into the room.

"Yes, Missus?" The elf squeaked.

"Clean that mess up," She ordered, waving at the remains of her glass. The elf started forward, conjuring a brush and a dustpan.

"Wait," Narcissa spoke, a steely glint in her eyes. "First, fetch my cloak." The elf bobbed her head, popping away only to return with an elegant yet plain black traveling cloak. Taking it, she slung it over her shoulders and secured it, pulling the hood up to cast her face in shadow.

"Will the Missus be gone long?" Bluffy inquired.

"I'll be back before dawn," Narcissa replied, walking briskly to the door. For sixteen years she'd stood on the sidelines, but the Dark Lord had just broken the last straw. She was a descendant of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, after all, and it was not in her nature to accept failure. She'd vowed to protect her family, and it was time to be true to that promise. "I need to visit an old friend."

She flung wide the door. The night was oppressively dark, the stars and moon shrouded by low hanging clouds, but Narcissa barely noticed "Do not speak of this to Draco," She ordered Bluffy before spinning on the spot, disappearing with a small pop.

A few minutes later found her standing outside of a dingy looking house in the middle of a sleepy muggle neighborhood. Lifting her pale hand, she knocked sharply on the door, exercising great restraint to keep herself from barging straight in without waiting for an answer. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the door opened revealing the sallow face of Hogwarts' Potions Master.

"Narcissa," Severus greeted as he caught sight of her. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I must speak with you," Narcissa declared, brushing past Severus as she made her way into his house, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

Severus raised an eyebrow, the corners of his thin mouth turning down. "But, of course," He replied, closing the door on the now empty doorstep, following her into his own sitting room. She wasted no time in shedding her traveling cloak, laying it neatly over the back of the sofa and sitting down. Folding her hands in her lap, she looked at Severus with impatience.

Only hesitating for a moment, Severus mirrored Narcissa, settling himself into the armchair across from her, a puzzled look on his features. "What can I do for you, Narcissa? I only assume it must be urgent to call at such a late hour."

Narcissa ignored the undertones of annoyance in the Potions Master's voice, choosing instead to get straight to the matter of her visit.

"Severus," She started, her voice firm. "You are aware of the task the Dark Lord has set to Draco?" She was sure she already knew the answer, and was unsurprised when Severus inclined his head in affirmation.

"Is this why you have come to call? You know there is little I can do to convince the Dark Lord to relieve Draco of the assignment," Severus drawled, arching a lazy eyebrow.

"Of course not," Narcissa waved her hand at the obvious statement. She was not so foolish to hope that anyone could persuade the Dark Lord once he had made up his mind. "I have come to ask your help on another matter."

Severus sat up straighter. "And that matter is?"

Narcissa sighed, preparing for the coming conversation, one she was sure would be filled with many hard questions and equally hard explanations.

"You're Draco's favorite teacher, Severus, and you are an old friend of both mine and Lucius. If it had been up to me, you would have been named his godfather." Severus' eyes widen slightly at this admission, but he made no move to interrupt. "I have always trusted in you, and not simply because of your service to the Dark Lord."

"Oh? What else have I done to garner such trust?" He calmly asked.

"You have been, and still continue to be, a spy for the light." Narcissa watched Severus carefully as she spoke, awaiting his reaction.

At first, he stilled, not even blinking, but, quickly regaining his composure, he replied, "Yes, it is true I have passed on valuable information to the Dark Lord-"

"You know that is not what I said," She cut Severus off. "I trust you because you are a spy for Dumbledore. You do not blindly follow the Dark Lord as does my husband and my sister. I trust you because you, too, have lost someone you loved by his hand."

Severus slumped back in his chair in utter shock, his eyes slightly pained with the ghosts of the past. "I don't understand," was the only reply he could manage. If the situation had not been so grave, Narcissa surely would have laughed out loud. It was not often the surly potions professor found himself flummoxed or at a loss for words.

"I am a very observant woman, Severus. More so than my sister Bella, for which you should be grateful. I see things many people do not."

Severus shook his head, trying to adjust to the unanticipated situation. "I thought you were a supporter?"

"Although most forget or assume incorrectly, I am not a Death Eater," Narcissa stated, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I have never believed in the Dark Lord. I am, however, not stupid enough to outright oppose a powerful mad man. I have only ever supported Lucius because he is my husband, and I have done everything in my power to shield Draco from his influence. In this task, I am afraid, I have failed." Narcissa turned her sad gaze down as she finished, her voice filled with guilt.

There were a few moments of silence, and then Severus spoke, "I don't understand how I never saw your actions for what they truly where. I'm sorry I doubted you." His voice was sympathetic. He, too, knew what it felt like to fail to protect the ones you hold dear.

"I never meant for anyone to," She replied, lifting her eyes to meet his. "And now I need your help, Severus. I need you to protect Draco. I refuse to lose him to this war. I cannot stand to see him driven to the limits his father has been pushed to."

Severus nodded, his dark eyes serious. "I promise you, I'll do anything in my power to protect the boy. But you must understand, he has been assigned a difficult task."

"And it is my hope that he will never have to complete it."

Severus' eyebrows furrowed at the statement. "If Draco is to survive, I see no other solution but for the task to be done, one way or another."

"There is always another option, Severus. You just have to know where to look."

"Clearly, you have already found it."

Her gaze drifted off to the side, a haunted look in her eyes. "It was never truly lost to begin with, just buried so deep I was too scared to even think of it before. I realize now that I have waited far too long."

Severus waited for her to continue, but when it appeared she was lost in thought, he leaned forward and gently placed his hand on her arm.

"Narcissa?" He asked quietly, successfully grabbing her attention. She turned to look at him with wide eyes, and he could see the trace of a solitary tear at the corner of her eye.

"Only three other people know of what I am about to tell you. Two of them are dead, and the other was voluntarily obbliviated to erase all knowledge of the secret. The Dark Lord must never know," She paused, staring directly into his eyes.

"Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?" She whispered.

Severus didn't even pause. "I will."

And so, in the hush of the night, the wizard and the witch who were neither of them as they seemed, linked hands and a vow was made. Then, for the first time in her life, the witch divulged her most guarded secret, praying to any deity that might be listening that she was making the right choice.

000

End Chapter One. Please Review!

And don't forget to give me your opinion on what you'd like to see:

1- Harry/Ginny Ron/Hermione Draco/Astoria(although this pairing would only be alluded to if anything)

2- Harry/Ginny Draco/Hermione Ron/Luna(this pairing would mostly be in the background)

I really am still undecided. It's just so strange for me to think of deviating the relationships from canon. I admit, I'm leaning more towards Draco/Hermione, but it could go either way.


	3. Chapter 2

**The Bond of Brothers**

**A/N: **Well, I'm fairly certain I'm going with Draco/Hermione, but this pairing won't happen for a while yet. Thank you all so much for giving me your opinions! It's definitely going to be a challenge for me to write a pairing that isn't canon, but I'm very much looking forward to it :)

A HUGE **thank you** to my lovely reviewers for last chapter! MaileS, Seablue eyes 9311, DaughterOfApollo96, Peregrinus, MDarKspIrIt, and my five anonymous reviewers. Officially the most reviews I've ever had with only two chapters of a story!

**Chapter Two:**

It was the last day of summer, and Diagon Alley should've been bustling with life and excitement. Instead, the streets were bare and colorless, shoppers not stopping to browse the windows, darting from one store to the next, afraid to spend too long out in the open. It was an overall depressing atmosphere, which did nothing to raise Harry's already bitter mood. He'd been looking forward to the annual shopping trip for the last few weeks, eager to purchase some books dealing with extra curricular subjects. If he was going to stand a chance of surviving the coming war, and protecting those he cared about along the way, he needed to learn more than what he was taught in the classroom. But Mrs. Weasley hadn't even let him go into Flourish and Blotts, ignoring his protests outright and sending them off to Madam Malkin's with express instructions to meet at Fred and George's shop in fifteen minutes.

His frustration only increased with a badly timed run in with Draco Malfoy and his mother at the robe shop. Needless to say, by the time he entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, not even the whimsical joke shop could brighten his bad temper. He put on a polite smile, congratulated the twins on their apparent success, humbly accepted a few of their more defensive inventions, and then quietly separated himself from the group. He made his way to a secluded corner near the front of the store, pretending to look at some candies that could turn your hair and skin different colors while looking for a window to escape the watchful presence of the Order's guards that had been tailing him all day.

He glanced surreptitiously out the large front window, checking to see who was standing watch at the front of the store, when he saw something that caught his attention. Draco Malfoy, having slipped away from his mother, was walking quickly in the direction Harry knew led towards Knockturn Alley, nervously glancing over his shoulder every few steps. Instantly, Harry's suspicions were raised, wondering exactly what business the Slytherin had that would lead him the notoriously darker side of Wizarding London.

Checking quickly to see if anyone was watching him at the moment, he made a split decision, one he'd probably regret later, and ducked out of the twins' shop. He hid hastily in the shadows, waiting just long enough to make sure he hadn't been spotted before creeping along as inconspicuously as he could manage behind Malfoy.

He'd been following the other boy for less than a minute when the blond stopped at a corner and swept his eyes over the deserted shops around them. Quickly, Harry ducked into a small nook between to boarded up shops, letting out a breath when Malfoy's gaze passed harmlessly over him. A few seconds later, when Malfoy seemed satisfied that he wasn't being followed, he turned down a small alley and out of sight.

Moving out from his hiding spot, Harry rushed to catch up, not willing to let the boy leave his sight for long, but he only made it a few steps when he heard a noise behind him. Whipping about, he reached for his wand, but his pursuer was faster.

"Expelliarmus," a feminine voice spoke, and his wand went flying from his hand, soaring in a neat arc towards a hooded figure who caught it deftly in a pale hand.

"Who are you, what do you want?" He demanded, angry that he'd been too busy following Malfoy that he hadn't noticed someone doing the very same to him.

"It's not wise to wander alone these days, Harry. Especially for you." There was something familiar about the silky voice, but he couldn't place it.

"I can take care of myself," He said, squaring his shoulders, sorely aware that the mysterious woman was in possession of his wand.

The woman laughed drily. "Yes, I can see that," She replied, tossing his wand back to him.

Instinctively, he shot his hand out and caught the stick of holly, completely confused by the stranger's intentions. Who attacks someone, he asked himself, then turns around and gives their victim back his wand?

"Relax, Harry, I mean you no harm. I only wish to speak with you," said the stranger, holding up her hands in mock surrender.

He narrowed his eyes. "Show me your face and I'll consider it."

With excessive flourish, the woman pulled back her hood, revealing long tresses of blond hair around a pale, sharp face and grey eyes that Harry was all too familiar with. Everything suddenly made sense to him. Mrs. Malfoy was trying to stop him from following her son and finding out whatever he was planning.

"I spoke the truth, Harry, I do not want to hurt you. I ask only that you listen to what I have to say."

Harry scoffed. "And why should I trust you? For all I know you want revenge for your husband being thrown in Azkaban."

"I do not condone my husband's actions, or his allegiances." There was a raw pain to her words that startled him. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Are you saying your _not _one of his followers?"

"Yes, Harry," she nodded, her tone solemn. "I am no a more a Death Eater than your mother was."

"My mum?" Harry repeated, feeling a bubble of indignation rise at the mention of his mother. "What would you know about my mum?"

Mrs. Malfoy's eyes went unfocused, a strange expression flitting over her face. "Much more than you know."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His raised voice snapped Mrs. Malfoy out of her daze, and she fixed him with her sharp eyes.

"Now is not the proper time or place, Harry. We have only minutes before your absence will be noticed. Will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Yes," he replied after a few moments, ignoring the rational part of his mind telling him to walk away from this potentially dangerous situation. She made it seem like she knew his mother well, and even though he knew she could be lying, something in his gut told him otherwise. He decided he would listen to this woman, giving her one chance for the sake of his mother's memory.

"I need your help," she said, her voice lowering to hushed tones.

"What could I possibly help you with?"

"You can help save my son."

He blinked, stunned. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this certainly hadn't been it. "You want me to help Draco?"

"Yes," she breathed. "You're the only one who can."

"This has to be some kind of sick, twisted, Death Eater joke…"

"Harry," Mrs. Malfoy surprised him by gripping his arm, digging her nails into his flesh. "You have to speak with him, show him that he has another choice."

"Another choice?" Harry was beginning to wonder if this was all some bizarre dream brought on by one of Fred and George's pranks.

"The Dark Lord has set a task to Draco-"

"What! He's a Death Eater you mean!" Harry tried to pull his arm free from Mrs. Malfoy, but she held tight.

"Against his will, but yes." Her voice was filled with drowning sadness, and this alone made Harry stop fighting to get away. "He is being punished for my husband's failures. The Dark Lord knows Draco will not succeed. Please, you must help him. You are the only one he will listen to."

"Why do you think he'd listen to a word I said? He hates me!" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're his mother, you should know that."

"Please, Harry," she spoke his name like a desperate prayer. "Please try."

He looked at her skeptically. "Why should I? Your son's never done anything for me." As far as he was concerned, Malfoy could share a cell along with his father in Azkaban and he wouldn't shed a tear.

She smiled ruefully at him. "There's more Slytherin in you than I realized." Harry bristled at what he perceived as a taunt, but remained silent, waiting for an answer to his question.

"Here," She produced a small vial from her cloak. Holding the tip of her wand to her temple she closed her eyes. After a moment, she pulled her wand away, a silvery wisp trailing from the end, which she carefully placed in the vial. After stoppering it, she held it out to him. "I thought you might need extra convincing. I trust you know what this is?"

Slowly, he reached out and took the vial from her open palm. Staring at it with wide eyes, he answered, "A memory."

"_Memories_, Harry… I hope they will help you make the right decision."

"I don't have a way to view them…" he muttered, still trying to come to terms with the fact that not only did Malfoy's mum want him to help her son, but that she had also willingly giving him some of her memories.

"Take them to Professor Snape, he will be expecting you."

"Snape?" he spat out the name of his least favorite teacher, the man who'd kicked him out of his office and refused to continue his Occlumency lessons. Harry knew that he was partly at fault, but that didn't stop him from placing some of the blame for Sirius' death on the greasy git.

Mrs. Malfoy smiled. "It's all in the memories, Harry." She leaned in close, whispering in his ear, "Draco's just a boy trying to protect those he loves." _Just like you_… She didn't need to finish the though, Harry understood her silent words.

Harry shivered, stepping back. She allowed him to, straightening herself and pulling the hood of her cloak back up, shrouding her face in shadow.

"Now, go. They're looking for you." Mrs. Malfoy gestured back the way he'd come. Walking past him, she turned down the same corner her son had minutes before, disappearing into the shadows.

Too thrown to do anything else, Harry slipped the vial into his pocket, making sure it was secure, then started back towards the twins' shop. As he walked, he replayed the odd encounter over and over.

Brushing his hand against the bottled memories inside his pocket, he'd never been more anxious to return to Hogwarts and see the Potions Master in his entire life.

000

The night air was hot, still warmed by the recently set summer sun, but that didn't stop the shiver that ran up her spine as the rocky island towered before her. Narcissa waited for the cramped wooden boat to dock, soaking ropes magically securing themselves to a rotting post. Stepping carefully out, she proceeded up a narrow path cut into the stone face. As she crested the cliff, her destination dawned in all its grotesque awe. She could make out the black, wraith like dementors circling the impregnable walls, and she raised her shields around her mind.

She approached the guard tower, holding her head aloft as she entered the foul smelling place. Behind a lopsided desk, a rather disgusting wizard sat, his muddy boots resting on his workspace, a half empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand. His rat like eyes sized her up as she stepped up to him.

"What can I do for ya', ma'am?" He smiled, revealing a row of yellowing, crooked teeth that was missing more than one of its members.

She tried not to breath in his stench as she answered, "I would like to visit prisoner 182276."

"Let's see 'ere," the man muttered, wiping his nose noisily. Removing his feet, he bent over and produced a large, tattered record book from behind the desk. Plopping it down unceremoniously, a cloud of grime flying up into the stagnant air, he began flipping through the pages. "Ah, number 182276 yous says, aye?"

"That is correct." She didn't try to hide her disdain, but the man either was too inebriated to notice or had no self-respect left to care.

"And what relation to, eh…" He double-checked the book, squinting his eyes. "… Lucius Malfoy… would ya' be?"

She sniffed. "His wife."

He chuckled gleeful, but the effect was broken by a loud belch. "Donner! Got a visitor 'ere for Malfoy!"

A younger wizard appeared a moment later from a side door, dressed in standard Auror robes. Narcissa was relived to note that he, unlike the receptionist, looked well kept apart from his pale face and shadowed eyes, but that was to be expected of anyone who spent more than an hour or two on this forsaken rock.

The Auror, Donner, glanced her up and down. "Follow me," he said, and, without further ado, walked back out into the night.

With one last disgusted look, Narcissa left the guard tower, trailing the young man as he led her towards a pair of large, menacing black gates. Two more Aurors stood watch on either side. When they saw them approaching, they stepped aside, waving their wands in an intricate design over the gates, which slowly opened just enough to allow them entrance.

Once inside the prison, she did her best to ignore her surroundings, blocking out the fearful cries, turning a blind eye to the pitiful remains of human beings that were curled up in the dirty cells. She was here for one reason alone, and it was not to feel sorry for those who had earned a spot in this hellish place.

After a few minutes of winding turns and long cellblocks, Donner finally came to a stop beside a cell. Waving his wand over the latch, it clicked open, and he pulled the rusted iron bars back, giving her room to enter.

"Prisoner 182276. You have five minutes."

"Thank you," she told the Auror before taking a deep breath. Steeling herself, she calmly entered the cell, hearing Donner shut the bars behind her before his footsteps retreated down the hall.

"Who are you?" a broken whisper called to her from the far corner, and her eyes followed the sound. There, siting with his back pressed to the wall, his knees curled up to his chest, his pale hair matted and dirty, eyes wide with waking nightmares, was her husband. She could not stop the rush of sorrow that filled her heart at the sight. For all that this man was foolish and bigoted and cold, he was still her husband, and she loved him despite.

Walking forward slowly, not wanting to startle him, she gently knelt down beside him, brushing some grime from his face. "It's me, Narcissa."

He looked up at her then, eyes shining with hopeful tears. "Narcissa?"

"Yes, love, it's me."

A warbled sob bubbled forth from his mouth. He brought his rough hands up to cup her face, and she smiled gently. "Why… why are you here? Have you come t-to take me ho-home?"

"No," she told him, her heart aching as she watched his entire being crumble. "I've come to give you strength."

He turned his head way from her, staring blankly at the cold stonewall. "There is no such thing… n-not here."

"I've come to tell you that I will fix this, all of this." He didn't respond, so she pressed forth, her voice firm. "I have a plan, Lucius, a way to fix the mistakes of our past."

"No…" her husband murmured numbly. "No…"

She put her hand on his chin, forcing him to look at her. "_Yes_, Lucius. I swear to you our family will be together again… _all _of us." She choked on her words, her own emotions threatening to silence her. Swallowing hard, she pressed on. "I have a plan. You need only hold on until the time is right."

She heard the bars squeak open and knew Donner had returned for her. Leaning in, she brushed her lips against her husband's ear. "Be strong, love, and you will see your family soon," she whispered, then placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

The last thing she saw as Donner led her away was her husband covering his face, muddy tears leaking out from in between his dirt covered fingers.

000

"What's that?"

Harry jumped at the voice, quickly shoving Mrs. Malfoy's memories into an old pair of socks he'd gotten from his aunt and uncle a few birthdays back. Throwing them into his trunk and snapping the lid closed, he turned to face Ginny. She was standing in the doorway to Ron's room, a steaming mug held in one hand, an eyebrow raised.

"Nothing," he said, throwing up what he hoped was a convincing smile. Ginny narrowed her eyes, but didn't press the issue, instead stepping all the way into the room.

She held out the hot drink. "Brought you some of mum's spiced tea."

"Thanks?" he said, a bit uncertainly.

"I noticed you haven't been sleeping all that well." Harry shifted nervously, but Ginny paid him no attention. "Mum's spiced tea always helps me sleep… I used it quite a lot summer before my second year."

"Oh," he said, getting to his feet and taking the offered tea. He rarely heard Ginny mention anything to do with her first year, and he knew it had probably taken a lot to even offer up that much to him. "Thanks, Gin. That was really thoughtful."

She rolled her eyes at him, plopping her self down on his bed. "So, you all packed for tomorrow? You know how mum hate's running late."

"Yeah, I'm ready to go back," he said, thoughts drifting to the unknown memories in his trunk. He was grateful that tomorrow was September 1st. He could barely even handle waiting that long to find out what Mrs. Malfoy had chosen to share with him.

"Any idea about who the new Defense Professor might be?"

"Not a clue, but anyone has to be better than Umbridge."

"Ugh, I hope I never have to see her toad-like face again."

Harry chuckled, although he couldn't agree more. He liked the way Ginny looked when she let her temper get to her. Sitting down next to her, he wondered, not for the first time, why he'd never really noticed the fiery girl before.

"Seriously, though," she was talking again, and he forced his wandering thoughts away from dangerous territory. Ginny, no matter how amazing and beautiful, was still his best mate's little sister. "Are you going to continue the DA?"

"Er, I hadn't really thought about it," he said, caught off guard.

"I think you should, and so do Ron and Hermione."

Harry leaned back, taking a sip of tea, gathering his thoughts. "They didn't say anything to me about it," he finally settled on. Honestly, he wasn't too keen on the idea of teaching again.

"Of course they have, Harry. You just haven't been listening." Harry thought it sounded suspiciously like she was scolding him.

"What are you getting at?" he asked, going on the defensive.

Ginny positioned herself so she was facing him. "I'm talking about how you've been ignoring your friends all summer, how you refuse to talk about that night or what happened afterward between you and Dumbledore."

"There's nothing to talk about, Ginny. That's why," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"Harry," her hand brushed his, making his stomach flip. "It's okay to talk about him. I know you miss him, but ignoring it, not letting yourself mourn, isn't going to make anything better."

"Just because I'm not bawling my eyes out doesn't mean I'm not grieving, Gin!" he seethed, rising to his feet, his control on his temper slipping. "And it's not like I could ignore what happened when I see Sirius falling through that damn veil _every bloody time_ I close my eyes! That's why I haven't been sleeping, because all I can think about is how its all _my_ fault, and how much I miss him, and how I _wish_ I could take everything back. But I can't. Do you know what it's like to know everyone you love dies in the end… to know that you're always going to be alone?"

Sometime during his rant he'd thrown his mug of tea at the wall, the red liquid clashing horribly against the orange paint. His face was hot, and he could feel glassy tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Ginny had got up from the bed and was now standing directly in front of him. She placed one of her small hands along the side of his face. He meant her eyes, expecting to see pity or anger, but was surprised to find neither. Instead, her face held a weary resignation.

"Your not alone, Harry," she whispered, so close he could smell her honey scented breath. She leaned in, so near he could count every freckle that covered her nose.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, stepping back just before their lips met, his heart beating hard in his chest. "I can't."

For a second, he thought Ginny was going to protest, but she just turned around and moved towards the door. She paused, calling back to him without looking, "Good night, Harry." And then, she was gone.

He sat down heavily on his bed, the mattress groaning underneath him. He laid his head in his hands and shut his eyes, cursing Ginny for nearly kissing him, yet yearning for her to try it again. He groaned, knowing he had to get a handle on his growing feelings for the girl. If he were a normal teenage boy, he'd probably ask her to Hogsmeade and then have a good snog in a broom cupboard. But he wasn't normal by any means, and he couldn't afford the sort of distraction a relationship would bring, not to mention the fact that he'd be painting a huge target on her back for Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

It looked like he had another good reason for returning to Hogwarts besides Mrs. Malfoy's memories… it'd be much easier to avoid Ginny in the spacious castle than at the Burrow.

000

Well, there you go – half important, half filler. Not too happy with the ending, but that whole scene was giving me trouble. Hopefully the relationship between Harry Ginny doesn't seem to be moving too fast in this chapter. Don't worry, they're not going to just fall into each other's arms anytime soon.

Anyways, I don't expect romance to play too big of a role in this story, but Ginny's relationship with Harry will be important, so I won't be glossing over it entirely. And like I said earlier, Draco/Hermione won't be till much later in the story, as will Ron/Luna, the latter of which will really only be alluded to.

Anywhoo… enough of my ramblings you're probably not bothering to read! Next update is done, but won't be posted until the chapter after it is done, which I've started. Hopefully, it should be two or three days.

As always, please review!


	4. Chapter 3

**The Bond of Brothers**

_Edit 8-19-12: I realized while writing the next chapter that I'd completely left out an important detail in this chapter! If you've already read the chapter, you really don't need to reread it. I only added a few lines to Harry's conversation with Snape and I'll make note of what I changed at the beginning of next chapter._

**A/N: **Ok, just want to respond here to a couple of anonymous reviewers who really dislike the idea of Ginny being in the story since I can't do it privately. I'm sorry you don't like her character, but in the summary for this story, it clearly says this will be H/G. If this bothers you so much, then there are plenty of other stories out there that don't have this pairing. Although I respect your opinions, this pairing is the only one I had planned for this story from the beginning and isn't going to change.

And for anyone else who has reservations about Ginny being with Harry, I'm sorry but I've always been an H/G shipper, and I can't really see myself writing anything else. I do agree with most of you that Ginny's character was never fully developed in the books and it was a bit of a fan girl type relationship, but I hope I can overcome that in this story. Ginny is going to be important to Harry and how he deals with his changing relationships in this story, so hopefully she'll become much more than an old, slightly obsessive fan girl who ended up with the hero. ; )

**A/N2:** As for the lateness of this chapter, I have no other excuse apart from I lost motivation, which is a terrible one I know. I will henceforth refrain from making any promises on when chapters will be posted. Although I'll try not let more than a month or two go by without one.

**THANK YOU!** All my lovely reviewers! This is the most reviews I've ever gotten at this point in a story, so thank you so much!

**Chapter Three:**

The Platform was crowded like normal, but this year the happy chatter of returning students and the sniffling of parents as they said their goodbyes grated on his nerves more than usual. All those ignorant, carefree children whose biggest worries were pathetic insecurities… never before had he wanted to be a part of their number, but this year he found himself jealous of them. Glancing around, he caught sight of Potter making his way onto the platform surrounded by his entourage of poor red heads and the know-it-all Granger. He saw people whispering as they caught sight of the scar headed hero and couldn't help sneering.

"Let's all make way for the _Chosen One_," he scoffed under his breath so only his mother could hear. She looked sharply in the direction of Potter, something flashing in her eyes, but it was gone before he could make it out.

"You know I don't like you talking about him like that," she told him off quietly, readjusting his clothes and brushing away imaginary dust.

He felt the familiar irritation make his skin itch at his mother's persistent defense of the pig-headed boy-who-lived. She had been doing it long before he even went to Hogwarts, but only when his father was not around to hear. And since he'd been locked away, she'd been trying with more force to get him to play nice with Potter. "If you think I'm going to lay down at his feet like all these other idiots…"

"I don't think he wants that..." He almost didn't catch her words, his mother spoke so softly, her eyes lingering over Potter as he hugged Weasley's mother. She turned back to him, saying louder, "Just remember, Draco, there is more than one side to this war."

He made some noncommittal noise, looking away. Unlike his mother seemed to think, he was painfully aware that there were two sides, and he feared that he was on the loosing one. But there was nothing he could do. He's father had made sure of that.

"Remember, Severus knows of our… situation," her voice hitched, and Draco grew uncomfortable, checking to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "He has offered his assistance, when you should need it."

"_If _I should need it, you mean," he snapped. He was practically an adult, and as such didn't need his mother or professor coddling him. The task he had been assigned was his alone, as was the burden it carried. "Which I won't."

"It is good to be brave, my son, but too much of it is foolish."

He glared at her. "Do not compare me to one of those blithering Gryffindors."

"You know," she sighed, a far off look in her eye. "I never liked the students being sorted into Houses. It makes us forget our similarities, and focus only on our differences."

Draco could not hide his shock, never before hearing something of the like from his mother. He'd always thought she was a proud Slytherin, just like his father, and just like he was. But in that moment she almost sounded like the light wizards and witches who aligned themselves with Dumbledore. He was trying to come up with something to say in response, but was interrupted by the shrill whistle of the train.

"Go, Draco," his mother spurred him, giving him a light push when he stayed rooted to the spot. "Go on or you'll miss it. Remember what I said."

Still dazed, he allowed the throng of students to swallow him up and carrying him onto the train where he found a Slytherin compartment and quickly seated himself by the window. He looked through the glass, searching the crowd of parents till he found his mother. He caught her eye, and she gave a small wave, mouthing the words 'I love you' as the train pulled out of the station.

Draco leaned back in his seat, choosing to remain in silence for much of the following trip, speaking only when absolutely necessary. Since the Dark Lord had assigned him his task several weeks ago, his mother's behavior had started to worry him. He'd known since childhood that his mother was never the supporter that his father was, which he'd understood. He never fancied the idea of kissing another wizard's feet like the Death Eaters appeared to do himself. Of course, he never thought he'd be faced with the possibility either; growing up with the firm belief that He-who-must-not-be-named was dead and gone.

Lately, however, he'd begun to suspect that his mother's reluctance to support the Dark Lord ran deeper than a desire to not be reduced to a mere follower. Her offhand remarks from his younger years about not giving in to prejudices and to be respectful to the boy-who-lived had increased and become more instant. And her last comment on the platform only added to his suspicions that his mother didn't agree with the Dark Lord's ideals at all, or at least not completely. This greatly troubled him, almost as much as the consequences he faced if he failed in his task. If it was discovered that his mother was opposed to the Dark Lord… He feared what would happen to her, especially after the failure and subsequent punishment of his father.

His worried thoughts persisted all the way through the train ride and well into the Welcome Feast. Only a bony elbow sharply jabbing into his ribs was finally able to distract him.

"Draco," the persistently whiny voice of Pansy hissed in his ear. "Potter's been staring at you for the past _five minutes_!"

Narrowing his eyes he looked across to the Gryffindor table, slightly surprised to see that Pansy was telling the truth. For his part, Potter looked embarrassed at being caught and hastily turned away, joining in on his friends' conversation. Shrugging it off, he went back to his meal, realizing he'd hardly eaten anything and the only thing left on the table was dessert.

Several minutes later, as all the students were getting up to leave, he noticed Professor Snape weaving his way through the masses. Interestedly, he watched him approach Potter, say something he couldn't make out over the bustle, and turn to walk out of the Hall, an irritated Potter trailing after him. Moving quickly, he made it out into the Entrance Hall just soon enough to catch the unlikely duo heading down a lesser-used corridor, one he knew led to Snape's personal chambers.

He was debating on whether or not he should risk following Snape and Potter when Pansy's shrill voice called out to him.

"There you are, Draco!" She looped her arm securely in his, pulling him forcefully in the direction of the Slytherin dormitory, prattling on about her summer as if he cared. Sighing, he allowed her to guide him away, deciding to keep a closer eye on Potter this year, as well as Professor Snape. His mother's constant reminders that Snape was there to help him played in his mind. If his mother's allegiances were uncertain, than it was a very short leap to assume that the Potions Master wasn't as loyal as he seemed either.

000

Harry had barely managed to endure the train ride, which seemed to him to be longer than normal, and was now sitting in the Great Hall, impatiently picking at his food, willing the feast to end. The glass vial filled with memories sat like a hot ember in his pocket, his thoughts occupied with speculation after speculation of what they might contain. Looking up at the Head table, he was trying to think of the best way to approach Snape about viewing the memories when Ron's voice invaded loudly in his mind.

"Did you know Lupin was coming back this year, mate?"

Harry's eyes slid down from the Potions Master to land on the newly returned Professor Lupin who was speaking with McGonagall. "No, he never mentioned it."

"At least we'll have proper instruction in Defense this year," said Hermione, bringing his attention back to his friends.

"Yeah, anyone would be better after that toad," Ron agreed between mouthfuls of potatoes. Harry unconsciously flexed his hand, stretching the scarred words, _I must not tell lies_.

"Harry doesn't want to continue the DA," Ginny spoke offhandedly, her eyebrows raised. He mentally cursed, knowing she had waited till the middle of the Welcome Feast to bring up last nights conversation on purpose.

"What?" This came from Neville, who was sitting on his other side. "Why not?"

"Harry, learning how to defend ourselves has never been more important," Hermione added before he could answer, her tone laced with disapproval.

He shrugged, having no desire to explain himself at the moment. "You said yourself class will be better with Professor Lupin teaching again."

"Yes, but," Hermione had that gleam in her eye that he'd long ago recognized to mean that she was gearing up for a long winded debated. Quickly, he moved to cut her off.

"Look, can't we talk about this later? It's the first night back."

Hermione let out a breath of irritation, but went back to her supper, exchanging glances with Ron and Ginny. Ignoring his friends for the moment, Harry let his attention stray, his eyes drifting across the room and settling on a certain blond boy who sat at the end of the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting with his normal lackeys, but, like him, seemed to be somewhere else. He looked at his robe covered left arm, knowing what black tattoo was now burned into the pale skin beneath it.

_It had only been a matter of time_, he thought, the idea that Malfoy was a Death Eater not surprising in the least. No, what was troubling about this recent development was the unknown task he'd been assigned. Surely it couldn't be that terrible when Malfoy wasn't even of age. What could he possibly do when he was still inside the walls and protections of Hogwarts under the eye of Dumbledore? But, if it were as trivial as he imagined, why then would Mrs. Malfoy go through the effort to seek him out and ask for his help?

Malfoy was picking at his food when Parkinson whispered something to him, and his grey eyes moved to meet his. Embarrassed at being caught staring, Harry quickly moved his eyes away, pretending to listen to Ron go on about the Chudley Cannon's outlook for the coming season. A few minutes later, the last of the food was cleared from the long tables. As one, the students stood and began to make their way out of the Great Hall, the first years gathering timidly around their respective prefects while the older years fell into familiar routines.

"Potter," a cold voice spoke his name distastefully. Harry turned from his place in the throng of students clambering for the wide doors to find the one professor he actually wanted to speak to. Snape sneered down his crooked nose at him. "Come with me. We need to discuss the continuance of your Remedial Potions lessons."

He felt his face grow hot. "Yes, sir." He broke no argument, despite being upset at the old excuse of remedial lessons, especially seeing how he hadn't even gotten into the NEWT class. He needed something from the greasy git, as much as he was loathed to admit it, and angering the professor would make getting answers harder.

Snape peaked an eyebrow, but said nothing else. As Harry followed him from the Hall, his stomach grew agitated, the little food he'd eaten churning uncomfortably. He could feel the glass vial in his pocket with every step. The older man led him down a small passageway he'd never ventured in before. There were very few portraits lining the cold walls, and the floor sloped steadily downward. The air grew stale as they descended into the dungeons, all the time neither breaking the silence.

Finally, Snape came to a stop in front of a seemingly innocuous stretch of wall across from a painting of a magnificent looking snake wrapped around a bloodied sword.

"These is the entrance to my personal office and chambers," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. "You will not give away the location or password unless you wish to be meant with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Harry replied, unsure, not quite understanding why the professor who hated him the most would trust him with this.

After a moment, Snape seemed satisfied and faced the bare wall, saying just loud enough for him to hear, "Lilium Candidum."

A great slab of stone separated itself from the rest of the wall at the password, pushing first inwards and then sliding to the side. Moving through the newly created doorway, Harry looked around his surroundings with undisguised interest. Apart from the lack of windows, one would not know they were in the dungeons. The front room was open and spacious. To the left, a fire crackled warmly in an iron grate, the heat chasing the dampness from the air. Two armchairs that appeared well worn sat before the flames, neither of which were in Slytherin colors. To the right, there was an ornate wooden desk littered with parchment and several stacks of potions books. There was only one portrait in the room, and it hung directly behind the desk. It was an older wizard with black hair and a beard that was beginning to grey who was currently sitting in a chair, snoozing. A silver cane with a black bird handle leaned against the frame. The rest of the walls were covered in woven tapestries, although they didn't depict any particular scene, rather just intricate patterns. There were several more doors leading off from the room, but all were closed.

"Sit, Potter," ordered Snape, settling into a large chair with carved armrests situated behind his desk. Cautiously, Harry lowered himself into the only chair that sat in front of the desk. He swallowed, not knowing what to say or do next. Mrs. Malfoy had said that Snape was expecting him, but this only served to make him more uneasy.

He cleared his throat, deciding to start with an easier topic. "What did you mean by Remedial Potions?" he asked.

"Exactly what I said, Potter," Snape drawled. "The Headmaster wishes for you to continue learning Occlumency."

"With you?" he exclaimed, then bit his tongue.

Snape's eyes darkened. "Did you have someone else in mind?"

"No," Harry tried to recover. "I just meant, after what happened last time… I'm just surprised."

"Rest assured, Potter," warned Snape. "This is your last chance. A repeat of last year's incident, and there will be nothing the Headmaster can do to spare you from my punishment."

Harry paled with guilt, for what he'd foolishly done and for what it had ultimately cost him in the end. "I understand, sir."

"I'm pleased to see you posses some small amount of decorum, Potter," said Snape. "Lessons will be every Thursday evening at eight o'clock sharp. They will be held here. I trust you paid attention and will be able to find your way back, and recall the correct password as well."

"Yes, but," he cleared his throat. "How can I be taking remedial potions when I'm not even in your class this year?"

Snape eyed him distastefully. "Given your… particular… circumstances, the Headmaster has asked me to take you on despite your lackluster grades in the subject. Rest assured, this leniency will not extend through the year. You will be expected to keep your grades up that same as the students who _earned_ their place. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied through clenched teeth, digging his nails into the palms of his hands to prevent him from saying something he'd later regret.

"Very well then. You are dismissed." Snape moved his attention to a particularly thick stack of parchment on his desk. Harry didn't move, sitting awkwardly in his chair. Now what was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave, not yet, not without finding out what memories had been given to him.

A few seconds passed while Harry frantically tried to come up with something to say. When it was obvious that he had no intention of moving, Snape looked up at him through strands of oily hair. "Are you deaf as well as stupid, Potter?"

"No, I just-"

"Spit it out."

Deciding to forgo the use of words altogether, Harry dug his hand in his pocket and produced the small vial, placing it carefully on the desk. Eyes widening slightly, Snape glanced between him and the memories, expression blank.

"Whose memories are those, Potter? And how did you come to be in possession of them?" Snape asked, arching his eyebrows. Harry met his onyx eyes, and knew the professor was completely aware of the situation but was simply waiting to see what he'd do next. He felt a burst of irritation. Snape was probably laughing at him in his head.

"You already know," he said firmly, done playing games.

Leaning back in his chair, Snape appraised him openly. "Indeed, I do. Though I confess, I did not believe you would actually approach me. But, I suppose, curiosity is a terrible thing, pushes better judgment to the wayside."

"Can you help me or not?" he snapped, his tolerance growing dangerously thin.

"Under other circumstances, I would give you a detention for carrying around what could potentially be dangerous knowledge and neglecting to inform an adult of an encounter with a woman associated with the Dark Lord. However," Snape stood from his chair, snatching up the vial. "I am well informed on the situation."

"So you know the task Malfoy's been given?" he spoke the question before he could think better of it.

Snape hesitated. "Yes, and it is of no concern to you."

"No concern?" Harry scoffed. "Obviously Mrs. Malfoy doesn't think so or she wouldn't go through the trouble of asking me for help!"

"It is not necessary for you to know, Potter," Snape responded coolly, now with his back to him as he stepped over to a nondescript cabinet Harry hadn't noticed before.

"But it must be something bad, or dangerous, or-"

"The Headmaster is aware of it, as am I, and that is enough." Snape's tone left no room for argument, and Harry reluctantly fell silent, although he had by no means given up. The professor turned to him, Dumbledore's pensieve cradled delicately in his arms. Gently, he placed the stone basin on the desk. Unstopping the vial, he upended it, the silvery contents spilling into the billowy liquid, casting it in tones of white.

Harry's heart beat with renewed excitement. He stood up and leaned towards the basin, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"You will speak of what you see to no one. Not even Draco."

Harry nodded, willing to agree to just about anything with the memories so tantalizingly close. "Alright."

"I will be here when you come out if you have questions," Snape said, almost all traces of his usual coldness gone.

"You're not going in with me?" Harry asked. He hadn't been sure the professor would let him go alone, although he was glad for it.

"She gave them to you, Potter." It was all he offered.

He bit his lip and breathed in through his nose. Unable to wait a second longer, and giving himself no time to back out, he plunged his face into the cool liquid, and he tumbled head first into the unknown memories.

000

_The dungeon classroom was full of bright-eyed first years, equal parts nerves and eagerness for their first potions lesson. A squat, chubby professor sat at his desk in the front of the classroom, waiting the last few minutes before class was to start, allowing any straggling students to make their way. Several potions bubbled, black caldrons placed on pedestals, and the colorful fumes made the room seem at once hazy and whimsical. _

_Towards the back of the classroom, four boys huddled together, all wearing their new Gryffindor badges with pride. There was a bespectacled, messy black haired boy with brown eyes who was whispering conspiratorially with a second ebony haired boy, all those his fell straight, the edges brushing into his blue eyes. A boy who looked tired despite a full nights rest with a head of light brown hair listened in quietly to his friends' whispers while he got his quill and parchment ready for any note taking. And the last boy, one who resembled a mouse in hair, face, and eyes, scooted closer to the previous three, a wanting expression on his features, desperate to fit in. _

_At the center, front desk sat two girls, one with straight locks of silvery blond and the other with thick waves of auburn. The former had a snake embroidered on her badge, while the later sported the same crimson and gold lion as the four plotting boys in the back. Both girls already had new rolls of parchment and new quills with full inkpots arranged on their desk. They waited patiently for class to begin, the red head girl bouncing slightly in barely controlled excitement._

_The door to the classroom swung open with a small bang, and a pale boy bearing a Slytherin badge with stringy black hair and dark eyes rushed in. The Gryffindor girl waved enthusiastically at him, and the boy quickly weaved through the desks to take the empty seat beside her._

"_I was beginning to think you were going to be late for the first day of class!" the red head exclaimed to the boy._

"_I took a wrong turn," muttered the boy, cheeks tinged with red. The blond girl snickered._

"_What's so funny?" the boy shot across the desk to his fellow housemate. She didn't answer, but stopped laughing and shrugged her shoulders._

"_It's nothing to feel bad about, Sev," the red head assured her friend. "The castle is even bigger than what I imagined from your stories. I'm sure first years get lost all the time."_

"_I wasn't lost."_

"_Isn't that what happens when you make a wrong turn?" The Slytherin girl smirked, and the boy crossed his arms grumpily over his chest._

_The Gryffindor girl turned to assess the other. After a moment, she held out a hand and said, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Lily Evans, and this is Severus Snape."_

_The blond looked appraisingly at the offered hand, then, almost cautiously, she took it. "Narcissa Black." She flashed a pristinely white smile. "And I believe I met Severus last night at the feast."_

"_Black," Severus grudgingly acknowledged. _

"_Hey, Evans!" the messy haired boy shouted from the back of the classroom, grinning quite charismatically for an elven year old._

_Instantly, Lily's mouth twisted in annoyance. "Be quiet, Potter!" she hissed back at him before resolutely ignoring him and his friends. _

_Narcissa raised her eyebrows, seemingly reconsidering something. "Are you a muggle-born, Lily?"_

_The Gryffindor breathed in and puffed out her chest. "Yes, I am," she spoke proudly._

"_Well then-"_

"_Black, watch yourself," Severus cut in, eyes narrowed at Narcissa warningly. _

"_I was only going to say," Narcissa said frostily to Severus before flashing another smile at Lily. "That any witch who can tell off my idiot cousin and his obviously equally idiotic new friend is all right with me."_

"_Er, thanks," said Lily, looking relieved. Severus merely looked stunned. It was at this point that the potions professor stood up, and all the students' attentions were diverted to the front of the classroom. _

"_Good morning class, and welcome to first year Potions! My name is Professor Slughorn…"_

The scene swirled away in black and white bursts of mist, and was quickly replaced by another.

_Several years had passed, and now a sixteen-year-old Narcissa Black sat at a front desk, facing a black board that read _NEWTs Level Charms_. She was apparently early for class, as only two other students were in the room. _

"_Hello, Narcissa," Lily Evans greeted as she walked in and took the vacant seat next to her._

"_Lily," Narcissa smiled politely. "How was your summer?"_

"_Apart from meeting my sister's oaf of a boyfriend, it was pleasant. Honestly, I don't know what she sees in him."_

"_Yes, well it is unfortunate that we can't pick and choose our relatives."_

_Lily nodded absently. "How did you do on your OWLs?"_

"_Outstandings in Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions. Exceeds Expectations in everything else." Narcissa flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "You?"_

"_The same," Lily laughed lightly. "Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other for the next two years." Both girls smiled._

_After a moment, Narcissa cleared her throat, saying quietly, "I've noticed you haven't spoken to Severus yet."_

_Coldness settled in Lily's eyes, her smile falling. "No."_

_Narcissa sighed. "He really misses you, Lily. I can tell. He's just too proud to apologize."_

"_Then he shouldn't have called me that foul name to begin with." Lily's voice was hard, but her face was lined with hurt._

"_He didn't mean what he said. You know Potter and my cousin bring out the worst in him."_

"_You don't know that," Lily challenged. "With all that's been going on lately, I wouldn't be surprised if Sev really did see me that way."_

_Her face going white with anger, Narcissa leaned in close to Lily, hissing through clenched teeth, "How dare you say that? You've known Severus before you even came to Hogwarts. You know he would _never_ think about you like that!"_

_Lily crumpled. "It's just… all the attacks… How can you be sure?" Her voice was hardly more than a whisper._

"_I know," Narcissa squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "Because I am the same. Neither Severus or I think any less of you, nor will we."_

_Astounded, Lily looked at the Slytherin with wide eyes. "You don't? I always thought…"_

"_It's talent and skill that make a witch or wizard, Lily, not their family name." Narcissa's lips were pressed into a thin line, but her grey eyes had softened somewhat._

"_I'm sorry I misjudged you," Lily shook her head. "You've always been perfectly nice to me, it was wrong of me to just assume-"_

"_It's alright," Narcissa waved away the apology. "I don't make it a habit to express my beliefs, unlike some of my more senseless Gryffindor relations." The corner of her lip twitched with amusement. Lily grinned, and the tension dissipated between the girls._

_Just then, a rowdy group of boys came tromping into the classroom, a young James Potter in the lead. "There's my Lily-flower! How would you like to…"_

The memory faded away, another following quick behind.

_Lily and Narcissa were huddled studiously over a small table at the back of the library, several large tomes spread out between them, each scribbling furiously across sheets of parchment. Both were so consumed in their work that they failed to notice a boy approaching._

"_Lily, what…" James spoke up, brow furrowed in confusion, distrust in his eyes, startling the girls._

"_James!" Lily cried, jumping to her feet. "What are you doing here?"_

"_I was looking for you," he replied, eyeing Narcissa, clearly upset by her presence._

"_How did you find me? I thought I told you I was going for a walk around the lake."_

_Stealthily, James stuffed what looked like a worn bit of parchment further into his back pocket. "I've got my ways," he replied flippantly. _

_Lily harrumphed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, you've found me. Now, if you wouldn't mind going away, Cissy and I are trying to study."_

"Cissy_?" James sounded both flabbergasted and disgusted. _

"_Yes, James," Lily replied hotly. "Do you have a problem with that?"_

_James spluttered. "Of course I've got a problem with that! She's a _bleeding_ Slytherin for Merlin's sake, Lils!"_

"_Thank you for stating the obvious, Potter."_

"_But those Snakes are all evil!" James nearly shouted, growing red in the face._

"_Oh, just like all muggle-borns are worthless?" Lily snapped back._

"_What?" James gaped, stunned. "No! I didn't say… I've never believed that!"_

"_Neither does Cissy." Lily placed her hands on her hips, looking smug._

"_But," James turned to Narcissa who had thus far remained silent, watching the argument with cool indifference. "You're a dark witch, your family-"_

"_Is the same family as your friend Sirius," finished Narcissa. James looked like he'd been slapped in the face with a dead fish._

"_Cissy is my friend, James, just like Sirius is yours." Lily took a step closer to her new boyfriend, putting a hand on his arm. "You're going to have to accept that if this relationship is going to work."_

_The thought of losing Lily seemed to be the last push James needed, and he slowly nodded. Turning to his girlfriend, he said, "You're right, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions… I was just a little bit… shocked, I guess."_

"_It's okay, but I'm not the one you should apologize to."_

_James face puckered like he'd had a strong taste of lemons, but he faced the Slytherin girl nonetheless. "I'm sorry, Bla… Narcissa. Any friend of Lily's is a friend of mine."_

_Narcissa nodded, and Lily smiled, relieved. She pulled James to the small table, and they both sat down, all three taking a moment to get used to the new situation. Then, James smiled mischievously, spouting off a joke, and all three laughed._

The library zoomed away, the sound of their laughter echoing into the next memory.

_The living room was cozy, several upholstered chairs and a couch arranged on the floor, a crackling fire, and charming Christmas decorations flitting around the ceiling. Two steaming cups of tea sat next to a bowl of sugar and a pitcher of milk along with a plate of biscuits. Lily and Narcissa, now a couple years out of school, were sitting in the two chairs closest to the fire._

"_I've been anxious sense your firecall earlier," said Lily. "What's your big news?"_

_Without preamble, Narcissa replied, "I'm pregnant."_

_Lily gasped excitedly, although there was a sadness around her green eyes. "Oh Cissy, that's wonderful news!" She leaned back in her chair, chuckling. "I was worried it was going to be something dreadful, what with the war."_

_Narcissa didn't say anything, her eyes gazing unfocused at the dancing flames. She looked far from happy._

"_When did you find out?" Lily asked._

"_Yesterday," was the subdued response._

"_And what did Lucius say?"_

_Turning to face Lily, Narcissa whispered, her eyes flashing with unshed tears, "I don't want to tell him."_

_Instantly, Lily moved forward and took her distraught friend's hand. "Oh, Cissy… I thought Lucius wanted children?"_

"_He does," Narcissa spat bitterly. "A child that can be raised under the cruel, harsh thumb of the Dark Lord and his sycophants."_

"_Cissy…"_

"_I will not condemn my child to a life of servitude to a monster." Narcissa's face was hard, her eyes shards of ice. "I will not."_

This time, the memory did not change, but rather shifted.

_The cozy living room remained the same, but the Christmas atmosphere was gone, replaced by one of childhood. Small toys were scattered across the floor, a blanket and several burp clothes draped across the furniture. A baby of two or three months with tufts of black hair and startling green eyes lay curled in Narcissa's arms as a smiling James and Lily looked on._

"_He's beginning to smile," James announced, sounding ridiculously proud. "Real smiles, you know, not just scrunching up his face and what not."_

_Baby Harry gurgled, waving his pudgy arms. _

"_Has Draco started to smile?" asked Lily._

"_Once," Narcissa replied wistfully. "Just this morning."_

"_Isn't it amazing?" James asked, eyes alight with the wonder of fatherhood. _

"_Yes, it is," answered Narcissa, although she sounded despondent. She offered the child to James who took him happily. He bounced up and down, tickling the boy's belly. _

_Arms now relieved, Narcissa let them drop heavily to her side. She sat down, and Lily did the same. _

"_How are you holding up, Cissy?" Lily looked thoughtfully at her friend, words laced with concern. "Everything okay between you and Lucius?"_

_Narcissa sighed wearily, the bags under eyes growing more pronounced. "No worse than I expected."_

"_He hasn't hurt you…" James trailed off warningly._

"_No, no." Narcissa smiled wanly. "My husband is many things, but, as impossible as it seems, I love him, and him me. He would never lay a hand on me."_

"_You look tired, Cissy," Lily observed._

"_Sleep does not come easily when worry for my son occupies my thoughts." Narcissa sighed, leaning back in her chair, her shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. "Sometimes I feel like taking him and running away in the middle of the night, but I've no where else to go."_

"_You and Draco are always welcome here, Narcissa," James told her firmly, arms gently rocking Harry who was falling asleep._

"_And put you in even more danger by harboring a Death Eater's wife and son?" Narcissa shook her head. "Don't be so ridiculous, James. I could never do that to you and Lily. You've both already done so much…"_

_There was a pregnant pause where all three adults turned their attention the snoozing child in James' arms. _

"_I do have one favor to ask."_

"_Anything," chorused James and Lily together._

"_If something should happen to me-"_

"_Cissy, nothing's going to-"_

"_We're in the middle of a war, Lily. Do not be naïve." Lily snapped her mouth shut, eyes resigned. _

_Narcissa continued. "If I die, I want you to take care of Draco." She shut her eyes, a single tear escaping and rolling down her white cheek. "I love Lucius, but I fear what would become of my son if he were raised only by his father."_

"_We promise, Cissy." Lily gripped her friend's hand tightly in her own._

"_Thank you," Narcissa breathed, eyes moving to the peacefully sleeping Harry, still so full of innocence._

"_My greatest fear," she spoke in a hushed whisper. "Is that Draco will take the mark like his father. The thought alone is almost too much to bear…"_

With a sucking sensation, the memory faded to black, and Harry was expunged out of the pensieve, landing on shaky legs and breathing hard.

"Well, Potter," Snape drawled from his seat, a glass of what looked suspiciously like fire whiskey in his hand. "I suppose you have questions."

000

End Chapter Three! I'm not incredibly happy with Draco's part of this chapter, but I really felt it was time to bring him into the story, so that's that.

As always, review! And thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 4

**The Bond of Brothers**

**A/N: **Important. I edited the last chapter because I realized I forgot something essential to the plot. Basically, I added a few lines to Harry and Snape's conversation, explaining why Harry's Occlumency lessons are still being referred to as Remedial Potions when he didn't receive an O. Due to his 'special circumstances', Dumbledore made Snape admit him to the class, but I also suspect Snape wasn't wholly against the idea after learning who Harry really is ;) Anyways, that's all you need to know. Sorry I totally left that explanation out of the last chapter the first time.

**Chapter Four:**

_With a sucking sensation, the memory faded to black, and Harry was expunged out of the pensieve, landing on shaky legs and breathing hard._

"_Well, Potter," Snape drawled from his seat, a glass of what looked suspiciously like fire whiskey in his hand. "I suppose you have questions."_

_Questions? _That, Harry thought, was the understatement of the century.

Numbly, he lowered himself back into the chair he'd previously occupied, his senses too overloaded to speak right a way. His mind was racing, his thoughts warring with each other, trying desperately to fit what he'd just seen into what he'd already known. But they didn't fit together, like a million square pegs and only a hundred round holes.

"I haven't got all night," Snape said, the traces of impatience not hidden.

Harry snapped his eyes up to his professor. "You knew my mother before Hogwarts?" It was not the most important question, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself from blurting it out. All this time, Snape had hated him for his father, but only now did he realize that not once had he spoken a bad word about his mother.

Snape's faced hardened. "Yes," he ground out, his lips barely parting.

"How did you meet? Why-?"

"Enough," hissed Snape. "You will not pry into my past, or I will throw you from this office and refuse to answer _any_ of your questions."

He opened his mouth to protest, to argue that it was _his _past, too, since it concerned his mother, but he shut it a second later. He had many more questions, and he couldn't risk giving up the chance at answers.

"Fine," he conceded, plucking a different question out of the dozens. "Mrs. Malfoy… she truly doesn't follow Voldemort?"

Snape's black eyes were impassive. "No, she does not."

"And she was… friends… with my mother?"

"Obviously."

Harry was silent a moment, letting the absolute absurdity of his present situation sink in. Two days ago, if someone had told him that he'd be here, in Snape's private quarters, asking questions and getting half way civil answers about his mother and Narcissa Malfoy, he'd have thought they were as barmy as Trelawney and her mad predictions. His chest constricted, a dry, darkly humorous laugh clawing its way up his throat and out his mouth. The sound was weird in his ears and made his stomach hurt, but he couldn't seem to stop. He felt caught in the middle of a tragic comedy, just a clueless actor on a stage in front of an audience who already knows the sad, sad ending.

The sorcerer's stone, mistaken as the heir of Slytherin, his godfather framed for murder and betrayal, Cedric dying, being branded as a liar about Voldemort's return, being tricked and getting his godfather killed, his mother having secretly been friends with Narcissa Malfoy, wife of a man who'd tried to kill him and mother of a boy who despised him – it was fate's joke, and he was damn well going to laugh at it.

"Merlin, Potter, have you lost all sense?" Snape uttered, looking concerned for his mental stability.

This comment breached his tormented thoughts, and his laughter died in his chest. He looked at the professor with deadened eyes. "Does Dumbledore know about all of this?"

"No," was the short response. "And it would be better to keep it that way."

"But you said he knows about Malfoy's task…"

Snape inclined his head, his thin lips frowning. "He does."

"Then why-?"

"For her own reasons, Narcissa wishes her involvement to remain unnoticed," Snape said before he could finish his question. "As I'm sure you gathered by her memories, she and Lily went through a great deal to insure their friendship stayed in the shadows. I only learned the full truth a few weeks ago myself when she voluntarily shared it with me. She's putting a great deal of faith in you, Potter, much more than I recommended her, I assure you. It would be wise of you to respect her in this singular matter."

Harry thought for a moment, trying to discern any danger in doing so. Why exactly did Mrs. Malfoy not want the Headmaster to know that she'd asked for his help, or that she'd been friends with his mother? Did she have even more secrets she was trying to hide? Still, Dumbledore knew about what Malfoy had been assigned, that he was a Death Eater now, and that was the most important thing, he supposed. And he could always speak up later. Besides, he'd never been much for going to authority figures in the past, why start now?

"I won't say anything," he said, then stood up and turned towards the door.

"And where do you think you're going?" Snape called out, rising to his feet as well, his chair scraping against the stone floor.

Harry turned back around. "I'm tired," he said, and it was the truth. He didn't think he'd ever felt more tired in his life. "I'd like to go to my dorm."

"You will not have another chance to ask me questions, Potter," warned Snape.

"I know," he replied quietly, then slipped out the door before the professor could say anything else.

He started the long trek back to the Gryffindor common rooms, feeling numb and at the same time like he'd been hit in the head by a couple of nasty bludgers. He had so many more questions, so many more things he didn't understand, but he wasn't sure he could handle anymore answers tonight. What he'd seen in the memories, what Mrs. Malfoy had begged of him in Diagon Alley, all gave him much to think about. Not only did he have to sort out if he'd try and help Malfoy or not, he now had to come to terms with the fact that someone he had assumed beyond a doubt was as dark as they come was, in actuality, not so very different from him.

Mrs. Malfoy was a friend of his mother. His father had offered her and an infant Malfoy sanctuary in their home, even promising to take him in and protect him with their lives if anything happened to her. From what he knew of his parents, they were good people with their feet firmly planted on the light side. Based on this, he could imagine no circumstance where is parents would offer such words to Mrs. Malfoy unless she truly wasn't the witch he'd been led to believe she was.

Snippets of her words from her memories rang in his ears.

"_Neither Severus or I think any less of you, nor will we… It's talent and skill that make a witch or wizard, Lily, not their family name."_

"… _the same family as your friend Sirius."_

"_I will not condemn my child to a life of servitude to a monster."_

"_My greatest fear is that Draco will take the mark like his father. The thought alone is almost too much to bear…"_

He shook his head, trying to chase out her haunting voice. Coming to an abrupt halt, he realized with slight surprise that he'd made it back to the portrait hole, having been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed how far he'd walked. He stood awkwardly in front of the lightly snoozing Fat Lady, suddenly aware that he had no clue what the password was.

"Oh, bollocks," he muttered under his breath. "Just what I needed to make this day _bloody perfect_."

He was casting about for a way to alert Ron or Hermione so they could come let him in, when rescue to his plight came in the form of two returning seventh years. Both looked slightly disheveled, clearly having got caught up in the excitement of the first night back and had snuck off and gotten tangled up in a broom cupboard somewhere. They glanced embarrassedly at him, but Harry couldn't even bring himself to raise an eyebrow in response.

"Fortis et verum," the boy mumbled, waking up an irate Fat Lady who grumbled annoyingly as she swung open, and all three of them scrambled through before she shut sharply behind them.

Noting his friends huddled together in a far corner of the common room, Harry quickly bypassed them, making straight for the stairs that led to the boys dorms. Minutes later, he was safely tucked into his bed, the curtains drawn tight. He lay there, eyes wide open in the dark. What he'd seen in the pensieve played over and over, his thoughts swirling as he struggled with what he should do with the knowledge the memories held. When sleep finally took him in the early hours of the morning, when light was just beginning to crest the horizon, he had come to only one conclusion.

He needed to talk with Malfoy.

000

Barricading himself in a far corner of the library, Draco took a moment to relax. He'd only been back at school a week, but already he felt completely worn out. His evenings were spent in the library, alternating between researching a way to accomplish his task and doing his homework, while his days were, oddly and irritatingly, spent avoiding Potter.

At first, Draco had thought it was only his imagination, paranoia due to his new status and level of involvement in the war. But, after two days of the Golden Boy's annoyingly green eyes following his every move whenever they were in the same area, he knew that his uneasiness was not without warrant. For some reason, it seemed like Potter had taken it upon himself to document his every move. Of course, Draco could not allow this.

It was hard enough with the ever-watchful eyes of the Headmaster and the other professors, he didn't need to be hounded by the light's bloody savior as well.

Still, he'd yet to come up with a solution to fix his predicament. He didn't think simply cursing or jinxing the Gryffindor would put him off, as he'd shown time and time again his absurd stubbornness. So, for the time being, he'd taken to ducking around corners, eating quickly, and spending all of his free time holed up in the library where he knew Potter rarely visited. He knew that eventually, his method of evasion would become inadequate and he'd have to face up to Potter, but he had more pressing matters on his mind. He'd just have to deal with the scar-head later.

Then again, he thought he would be able to avoid Potter for longer than a week.

This assumption blew up quite spectacularly in his face as, a few seconds later, the aforementioned Gryffindor appeared before him and sat down across from him, leaving Draco to stare wide-eyed and opened mouth in temporary shock.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Draco ground out, completely unprepared for the situation he found himself in.

"Sitting," replied Potter. "I would've thought that was obvious."

Draco wondered for a split second if he had accidentally fallen asleep and this was all a dream. "But why are you sitting _here_?"

Guarded green eyes studied him. "I thought we might have a little chat."

_Not a dream_, Draco changed his mind, _I'm having a nightmare._

"Have you gone and addled your brains, Potter, or are you truly this much of an idiot?"

The Gryffindor didn't respond, instead, leaning back in his chair and assuming a more comfortable position. His expression remained closed as he finally spoke up, saying conversationally, "How was your summer?"

_Not a nightmare, either, _he concluded, _I've completely lost my mind._

"Well," he sneered, "It was a tad lonely, what with you getting my father thrown into Azkaban."

"Oh, right," Potter's cheeks reddened slightly, for which Draco felt some small satisfaction. "Sorry 'bout that."

His eyebrows rose in astonishment, not having expected an apology of any kind. "Are you really?" he couldn't stop from asking, the whole conversation throwing him off center and making him feel unsure.

Not answering right a way, Potter seemed to be debating himself. Looking grim, he said, "No, I'm not."

Draco's first urge was to jump across the table and give the Gryffindor's head a good pounding, but that was too muggle. He second urge was to pull out his wand and try out a few new curses he'd found in an old dark arts book, but that would only result in bringing more attention on himself. So, he did nothing but study the face of his long time rival. Gradually, a grudging sort of respect surfaced. It may have been stupid to admit that he wasn't in fact sorry at all for landing his father in prison, but it wasn't as if Draco could really fault him for that. And, honestly, having someone speak the truth was refreshing when it seemed like everything lately consisted of falsehoods and thinly veiled threats.

"Very well, Potter, I'll play along," he said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"I'm not playing a game."

"Don't take me for a fool," Draco scoffed. "I've seen you watching me. You wouldn't be sitting here now unless you wanted something from me."

"Fine, you're right," conceded Potter. "I came to ask you a question."

Draco lifted a curious eyebrow, mildly intrigued, but kept quiet.

Potter took a deep breath, then resolutely met his eyes. "Why do you think we've never gotten on?"

There was silence, and then, "Are you daft?"

"I'm serious, Malfoy." And Draco could see the truth of his words written in the hard expression on Potter's face.

"You're a the boy-who-lived, and my father's a Death Eater." He felt like he was speaking to an incredibly clueless first year.

Potter shook his head. "That didn't matter on the train at the beginning of first year. Remember?"

And Draco did remember. He'd only gone to ask for Potter's friendship all those years ago for his mother's sake, but, when he'd realized that he'd actually already met the wizarding world's savior and had had a polite conversation with him, he'd wondered for the briefest of moments if they really could have been friends. That foolish thought was quickly squashed, however, as soon as Potter chose those pathetic Weasley's over him.

He sneered. "That was clearly a mistake. I still don't understand why my mother ever wanted me to offer you my friendship." Some emotion flashed in those startling emerald eyes, but it was gone before Draco could identify it. Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes, watching the other boy more closely. "Then," he continued. "You were sorted into Gryffindor, and I to Slytherin."

"Is it really that simple?" Potter questioned. "Gryffindors are friends with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, so why can't they be friends with Slytherins?"

"Because," Draco said, stammering slightly, never before having to explain the mutual hate and rivalry between their two houses to anyone. "That's the way it's always been," he finished somewhat lamely.

"Even the founders of our houses were friends in the beginning," pointed out Potter.

"And look how well that turned out."

"What if I wasn't in Gryffindor, would that make a difference?"

Draco couldn't hold back a short laugh. "As if you could be anything _but_ a Gryffindor."

He was still caught up in the sheer hilarity of the thought of the boy-who-lived being in any other house when he realized that the other boy had gone strangely stiff. The laughter died from his eyes as he took in the strange expression that had stolen over Potter's face.

"The Sorting Hat didn't agree with you," said Potter, once again managing to thoroughly shock him.

"What?" he asked stunned, wondering what on earth had made the other boy divulge this information.

"It thought I'd do better in another house."

Draco swallowed, almost afraid to ask, but curiosity drove him and he couldn't hold his tongue. "Which house?"

Potter didn't say anything, but flicked his eyes down to the Slytherin badge stitched onto Draco's robes.

"No. _Bloody_. Way," he murmured. Draco wasn't sure if mirth or horror should be coursing through him at this revelation.

"Do you know why I asked not to be placed there?" A cold gleam settled into those green depths, and, suddenly, Draco understood exactly why the Hat had seen a Slytherin inside Potter. "Why I begged to go _anywhere_ but there?"

Uncertain, Draco spoke, "…no."

Potter smiled, and it was the grin of a snake. Draco realized he didn't know the other boy at all. "Because I meant you."

He blinked. "Me?"

"Well, I suppose to be fair, it was you _and_ Voldemort," Potter ignored his flinch at the name. "The man who murdered my parents, and the boy who reminded me so much of my spoilt, bully of a cousin."

"I don't understand," Draco said, in a voice much weaker than he intended.

"I didn't know anything about magic when I came here, let alone about the houses at Hogwarts. But then I meant you in Diagon Alley, and you told me you wanted to be in Slytherin. And then I learned that Voldemort had been in Slytherin as well. So when the Hat said that I'd do well there… I chose otherwise." Potter fell silent, watching him with those killing curse eyes.

A pit formed in his stomach, hot and uncomfortable. The way Potter talked, it was almost as if he was implying that he, Draco, was just the same as the Dark Lord. The thought made him want to be sick. And Potter had referred to the time they met at Madam Malkin's, when he hadn't even known he was talking to the boy-who-lived, when he thought they'd been having a perfectly civil conversation. Was he really that blind to his own behavior? Was his character truly that flawed that he couldn't see how his words had affected Potter that day? After all, he must have acted truly horrible to turn someone away from Slytherin just because _he_ wanted to be in it.

Sudden movement from across the table drew his attention, and he jerked his head up as Potter stood abruptly and made to walk away.

"Wait," he called out, not really sure what he wanted to say, his thoughts jumbled.

The Gryffindor meant for Slytherin froze, turning back to look at him.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask what he had done, wanting to ask why him, wanting to ask why Potter had told him any of this in the first place, but the question that fell from his lips was none of these.

"You had a choice?" he whispered, voice hoarse. Of all his questions, this one somehow seemed the most important.

Potter eyed him with scrutiny, then his face relaxed slightly, and a satisfied light chased the coldness from his eyes. "You always have a choice, Draco." He lowered his chin slightly, meeting his gaze, then glanced down to his covered left arm. Involuntarily, Draco gripped the covered Dark Mark tightly with his right hand.

A second later, Potter left him, and he sat unmoving for several minutes. The other boy's words rang in his ears, and Draco knew he hadn't only been talking about the sorting. His knuckles grew white as he squeezed the skull and snake brand under his clothing.

Potter knew.

000

He was sitting in the corner of the common room, idly flipping through the pages of the Half Blood Prince's potions book, not paying attention to either it or Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's chatter around him. Instead, the same thing that had preoccupied him for the last week, Narcissa Malfoy's memories and her request, was once again monopolizing his thoughts. It had been a day since his conversation with Malfoy in the library, and he still wasn't sure if he was going to try and help him as his mother had asked.

He mentally replayed the scene. At first, he hadn't seen anything in Malfoy that made him believe there was a chance to save him from whatever fate awaited him with the Death Eaters and Tom. He'd seemed just as bigoted and arrogant as always. But then, for a reason Harry still didn't know, he'd decided to tell the grey eyed boy about what the Sorting Hat had said to him.

He'd seen the look in Malfoy's eyes as he told him what he'd thought of him that first time they met, when he told him that it was because of him and Voldemort that he begged not to be put in Slytherin. His words had truly shaken the boy, and, for the first time, Harry caught a glimpse past the pure-blood aristocratic mask Malfoy normal wore. And he'd seen that, underneath, the other boy was just as scared and unsure of what was coming as he was.

This revelation still shocked him nearly twenty four hours later. He'd instantly regretted how harshly he'd spoken, but he hadn't backed down, some small part of him taking a perverse satisfaction in seeing Malfoy knocked down several pegs. But then, he'd asked that damn question, the very thing that Mrs. Malfoy had wanted him to express to him.

So, he'd told him the truth. Everyone always had a choice.

And now Harry had a choice to make – help or walk away?

He sighed, shutting the book in his lap. There was ever only one decision he could make.

"Hermione, might I borrow some parchment?" he asked, interrupting his friends' conversation. All three of them looked at him with mild surprise, and he realized this was the first time he'd actually spoken to them today and not just answered their questions.

"Sure, Harry." Hermione fished a blank bit of parchment out of her bag and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he muttered, snatching up the quill Ginny had previously been using to write her Charms essay, ignoring he short protest. Quickly, he scribbled a few messy lines, making sure to shield his words from his friends prying eyes. When he was done, he folded it tightly and tucked it into his pocket. He stood up and made to go find Hedwig, leaving his friends to stare after him in confusion.

He was out of the portrait hole and half down the corridor when Ginny finally caught up to him, her cheeks lightly flushed from the short run to catch him.

"Hold up, Harry," she called, and he paused, looking to her.

"Gin, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Coming with you, wherever you're going."

He sighed, then continued walking. Not looking at her, he said, "Go back to the common room. I just need to send a letter."

"This late at night? What's so important?" she asked, falling into step beside him, blatantly ignoring his order.

Squashing down a wave of irritation, he snapped, "Nothing you need to worry about."

"Harry," Ginny said, her tone suddenly sounding very much like her mother's. "You've been acting strange ever since we got back. I know something's bothering you. Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"It's nothing," Harry evaded.

Ginny was quiet for a few moments, their footsteps on the stone floor the only sound, and then, quietly, "This isn't about Sirius, is it?"

His stride faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. "No, it isn't," he replied, and surprisingly found that he was speaking the truth. He'd been so obsessed this last week with the Malfoys that he'd barely thought of his godfather at all. Guilt made his stomach churn uneasily. How could he have so easily forgotten about him? Was this what happened when you died, mourned for a short while, and then left behind?

"I don't think I believe you."

"That's your choice."

By that point they'd reached the Owlery, and the moment they stepped in, Hedwig fluttered down to met him. He thanked his luck that she hadn't been out hunting. He wanted to send his response as soon as possible. Now that he'd made his decision, it felt as if time was of the essence, every second essential, monumental, like a clock ticking down. To what, he didn't know, but he knew it was something terribly important.

"Wait here," he told Ginny, and was pleased to see her comply as he walked over to one of the large openings. When he was far enough away from her, he handed the folded parchment to Hedwig. "Take this to Narcissa Malfoy," he whispered to her. She bobbed her head, and in a flurry of white, she was soaring out into the night.

000

_Mrs. Malfoy,_

_In honor of my mother's memory and your friendship with her, I will do my best to help your son._

_Harry Potter_

Narcissa read the letter three times before crumpling it in her hand. She tossed it into the fire, watching it turn to ash through tears of joy, relief, and painful longing.

000

End Chapter Four

As I'm sure you've noticed by now, I don't have a standard chapter length. Chapters are as long or as short as they need to be. My only stipulation is at least 2000 words. Sorry if this bothers anyone!

Reviews make the world go round! (or at least my fingers type faster ;) )


	6. Chapter 5

**The Bond of Brothers**

**A/N: **I'm just blown away by all the reviews! You all are just fantastic! The most reviews I've ever gotten : ) They honestly were the entire motivation for getting this chapter done!

For those of you who read the old version of this story, I'd say there's about two chapter's after this until they're at the same point. And considering I've got a good chunk written already, I'm going to optimistically predict that tbob will be surpassing abatt within the next month (fingers crossed!). Hopefully that makes all my old readers happy! New plot is almost here!

**Thanks to my wonderful reviewers! **Kari Minamoto, sailorroxy, MaileS, Seablue eyes 9311, DaughterOfApollo96, Peregrinus, MDarKspIrIt, Mego225, juventus, bookivore, Berttie Botts, VelvetyNightSky, Teufel1987, brownsugar808, DragonFoxx, Woemcat, MissRei24, and ten anonymous reviewers!

**Chapter Disclaimer: **The quote at the beginning is by Jan Glidewell.

"_You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that is leaves your arms too full to embrace the present." _

**Chapter Five**

He'd taken to lying awake at night, just listening. Nott slept as silent as death, a fact he'd always found unnerving. Blaise breathed quietly, turning over from time to time. Crabbe and Goyle sounded like a pair of baby trolls, muttering and snuffing and snoring into their pillows.

That was all of them. There was no one else to listen to.

_But there might have been._

The blasted voice that had been haunting him for the past month whispered in his ear again, making him cringe. He hated Potter for doing this to him, for being able to affect him this way. It shouldn't bother him, what he'd said. It shouldn't matter that Potter had disliked him so much that he hadn't wanted to be in the same house. He should glad he hadn't had to share a dorm with the famed boy-who-lived. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, what if?

If he'd acted differently that day in Madam Malkin's, if Potter had chosen Slytherin instead of Gryffindor… could they have actually gotten on? And, maybe, if they'd been friends, would he still be a Death Eater?

It was a ridiculous thought. He was always destined to follow in his father's footsteps. He knew that now. It had really only been a question as to when. Yet, the idea made his chest tight and uncomfortable, his past actions reaching up to engulf him in regret and anger.

For this, he only hated Potter more.

It wasn't befitting a Malfoy to doubt himself as he was doing. Malfoys were proud and noble, one of the oldest, most respected families. They were confident, and assured, and powerful. They were not meant to be sad boys who worry about their past and fear their future, allowing themselves to be confused by attention seeking, foolish Gryffindor heroes.

_But look where your father ended up?_

The voice spoke again, and Draco couldn't deny the truth of its words. His father had been everything the Malfoy house represented, and now he was rotting in a cell in Azkaban. Not for the first time since his conversation with Potter several weeks ago, he wished he'd listened more to his mother than his father in childhood. Only now was he beginning to realize that she had been in the right, while his father had led him into the very position he was now stuck in.

And he was stuck. Potter had said everyone had a choice, but that wasn't right. Sometimes, fate took away those choices, or made them for you. He had to follow through on his task, or his mother and father would die. When faced with that choice, there was no decision at all for Draco to make. He had to save his family.

So, Potter was wrong. He may have had a choice once, long ago when he was still an innocent child. But he'd unknowingly picked his road that fateful day in Diagon Alley when he was only eleven years old. And there had been no going back. There was no way out.

_Or is there?_

Damn Harry Potter, he thought, damn him.

000

From behind his desk, Remus watched his sixth year class work studiously on the assignment he'd given. At least, most of them were working studiously. Two, however, were not. And it was these two who drew his attention.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

Never before would Remus think to liken the two to each other in anyway, but their recent behavior had forced him to reconsider. Both boys had become obviously withdrawn from their respective friends, or followers in the case of Malfoy, to the point where they rarely seemed to speak a word to any of those around them. At first, he'd assumed this behavior was due to the events of the last several months, Harry struggling with the death of Sirius, and Malfoy with the imprisonment of his father. However, he soon realized, that something else was at play, and it was this second source that gave him the most concern.

Even as he watched them now, in a class full of students, he could practically smell the tension between them. When neither thought the other was looking, they'd sneak furtive glances, Harry's expression contemplative and impatient, Malfoy's hateful and the smallest bit hopeful, for what though, Remus couldn't begin to guess. He'd also been witness to a few occasions when Harry had done a poor job of 'mistakenly' running into the Slytherin, wherein an awkward moment would pass before the latter would make a hasty retreat, leaving the former to stare after him in puzzlement.

To Remus, it was clear something had happened between the two boys, but all his attempts at finding out what it was had ended in failure. First, he'd approached Ron and Hermione, assuming they would be the most likely to provide him with the information he sought. However, he'd been most surprised to find that Harry had barely spoken a word to his two friends ever since the summer, despite their best efforts. Understandably, they were frustrated and worried, but they'd been so focused on their friend's odd behavior that they'd failed to notice another student also acting out of sorts. Remus had decided it would only trouble them more to alert them to his suspicions about Malfoy's involvement in Harry's changed demeanor, so he left them with a reassuring sentiment and moved on.

Next, he'd tried young Ginny Weasley. He was no fool, he'd seen the way the two looked at each other. Yet again, when he asked the girl if she knew what was causing Harry's behavior, she had nothing more to offer than her brother and Hermione. While it seemed that although Harry spent more time with Ginny than anyone else at the moment, it didn't mean that he shared more with her as well, a fact that appeared to deeply trouble the girl. There was one thing the fiery red head had noticed that her other friends had not, though, and that was Malfoy's irregular behavior as well. Remus had smiled to himself during his talk with the girl where he caught a glimpse of her passion and determination. She'd come a long way from the second year girl he'd taught last time, and he couldn't help but approve of Harry's choice, even if the boy hadn't realized he'd made it yet.

When asking Harry's friends hadn't provided him with any more information than he'd already known, and the prospect of getting information from the Slytherins slim to none, he decided to casually prod his fellow teachers to see if they, too, had noticed the change in two of their students. Minerva had admitted she was concerned about her Gryffindor, but was at a loss of how to help him. The other professors said much the same, although to a lesser degree. Even Albus chalked up Harry's behavior to the loss of his godfather. It was only Severus' reaction that gave him pause. When he'd mentioned the boys' behavior in passing over lunch, the Potions Master had stiffened. It had been an infinitesimal amount, but being a werewolf did come with certain perks, and he'd managed to pick up on it. The lank haired man had gone on to express how little he cared what troubles accosted the students, but Remus had seen through the lie.

Severus knew something.

However, the chance of getting the hardened spy to divulge even the smallest of clues was nigh impossible, leaving Remus with only one option left. He had to confront Harry directly. Which was exactly what he planned on doing that very day.

As class ended and the students began to file out, laying their written assignments on his desk as they did so, he kept his eyes on the back of the line where Harry had maneuvered himself to stand next to Malfoy. Another student pushed forward from the back, knocking the blond into the side of Harry.

"Sorry," Malfoy mumbled under his breath, making Remus' eyebrows rise. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard an apology from the boy before, and certainly not directed to any Gryffindor, let alone Harry.

Further chance to observe the boys was lost as they both reached his desk and deposited their papers, neither of which, he noted, where to the required length.

"Mr. Potter," he called out, halting said boy from following Malfoy out into the corridor. "Stay behind a moment, if you will."

"Yes, sir," replied Harry with only the slightest hint of irritation, casting one last glance in the Slytherins direction before coming to stand before him.

"Why don't we talk in my office," he said, standing. Harry gave a short nod, and Remus led the way. After they were both inside, he shut the door, casting a wordless spell to insure no eavesdroppers could listen in. He turned to find Harry examining a cage on his desk that was currently home to a Hinkypunk. "It's for the third years lesson next week," he commented idly.

Harry made a noise in his throat in acknowledgment, then leaned back, saying "What did you want to speak with me about, Professor?"

"You don't have to call me that in private, Harry." He settled himself into his large chair behind his desk, looking the messy haired boy up and down.

"Okay," said Harry, staying standing.

Remus sighed inwardly, suddenly wishing that Sirius were there to have this conversation instead of him. It wasn't that he didn't love the boy as much as his old friend, it was quiet the opposite, but he couldn't replace Harry's godfather. Sirius had always been more like James, more like the father the boy had lost. He was… an old, tired werewolf. But Prongs and Padfoot were gone, and Wormtail was worse than dead, so, as the last Marauder, the responsibility of watching out for the cub fell to him.

"How have you been?" he lightly questioned, futiley hoping the boy would open up to him without prompting.

"Fine," was the short answer.

"I've noticed your grades have been slipping."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, and Remus could see him falling into a defensive posture. "I've had a lot on my mind."

"So it would seem," hummed Remus, reclining back in his chair. "Perhaps you'd like to share what's been troubling you?" It was at this point he decided he needed to stop spending so much time around Albus, as he sounded far too much like the old Headmaster for his liking.

"Stop," Harry bit out, the hostility in his tone surprising him. "I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work."

"And what am I trying to do?"

"Get me to talk about Sirius."

Remus let some of his weariness seep into his voice as he said, "Believe me, Harry, I wouldn't ask you to open up about him until you were ready."

Green eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Then what did you bring me in here to talk about?"

Hesitating for a moment, Remus decided to go for the blunt approach. "What happened between you and Mr. Malfoy?"

Eye's widening slightly, Harry looked slightly unsure of himself before he quickly regained control. Remus made a mental note to tell Severus the Occlumency lessons were starting to pay off. "What do you mean?" the boy asked.

"Both of your behaviors have changed. You're both withdrawn, and you're constantly following Malfoy while he's constantly avoiding you." He leaned forward now, placing his elbows on his desk. "So, I'll ask again, what happened?"

"It's nothing," Harry replied, not missing a beat.

"I don't believe you."

"It's the truth." The lie stung Remus more than he expected.

"Professor Snape knows, doesn't he," he said, and it wasn't a question. As he predicted, this comment threw Harry off guard, but the boy stayed quiet, pressing his lips firmly together. After a few minutes of silence passed between them, Remus let out a breath, backing down. It would do no good to try and force Harry to tell him.

"Fine," he murmured, waving his hand. "Just promise me you won't put yourself in harms way, that you're not doing anything dangerous."

Harry looked at him for a few seconds, then dipped his head. "I promise," he said, but Remus had been a Marauder for a long time, and he recognized the tone in the boy's words. His heart gave a particularly hard thrum against his ribs.

The boy stood up and made to leave, and he didn't move to stop him. When he was halfway out the door, Harry paused, turning back to look over his shoulder.

"Remus," he said.

"Yes?" His mouth twitched with the faintest smile at the use of his name.

"I'm sorry," Harry told him, then disappeared, as did the hint of a smile from his face.

Closing his eyes, Remus pictured a little baby with jet black hair and green eyes, giggling as he looked up at his Uncle Moony, and wished for those long ago days and happier times.

000

Severus sat in his chambers, ruminating over a quickly cooling cup of tea, waiting for Harry to arrive for their weekly Occlumency lesson. It still felt strange to him, calling the boy by his first name, even if it was only in his thoughts. He'd taken to referring to him this way in the hopes of making the truth easier to accept, but it was hard to see past the years of built up hate towards the supposed reincarnation of James Potter.

As he'd found himself doing often in the last few months, he cast his thoughts back to those dark years, searching every memory for the faintest of hints to what he now knew to be the truth. Unsurprisingly, he once again surfaced empty handed. This irked him to no end. Being a spy, knowledge and secrets was his area of expertise, and the fact that he'd been completely ignorant of such a great deception was a blow to his pride. He still found it amazing that Narcissa and Lily and managed to pull the wool over the wizarding world's eyes. Alone, they had each been brilliant witches, but together, they had been unmatched.

His heart gave an unwelcome throb at the thought of the bright, beautiful red headed witch who had never truly been his, and never would be. But before his thoughts could stray down such dangerous territory, the door slid open, admitting Harry into his rooms.

The boy looked beleaguered, dark smears making his eyes shine brighter than normal, his mouth etched into a permanent frown. Even the boy's hair seemed to be less enthusiastic, its perpetual messiness not quite so pronounced.

"Your late," he drily announced, to which the boy muttered a weak apology and took his usual seat, all the while not meeting his eyes. He had to resist the urge to reprimand the moping child right then and there. However, angering the boy now would only hamper what little progress they'd made in the lessons. Recalling the promises he'd made to both the Headmaster and Narcissa, he decided to wait to badger the child till the end of the lesson.

"Let us begin," he announced, and then quickly muttered the spell. Giving the boy only a seconds warning, he entered the Gryffindor's mind. He could feel hostile irritation from Harry at the unexpected intrusion, but ignored it. Perhaps next time, the boy would arrive on time.

As he had done countless times before, Severus easily tore through the wispy storm clouds that served to protect the boy's mind, the task made easier by his surprise assault and Harry's weariness. He began to idly sift through the jumbled mess of memories, watching uninterestedly as images raced by - a very young boy-who-lived was sitting in a dark, small space, a snake was slithering out of some sort of exhibit, a boggart was taking the shape of a dementor, a troll in one of the girls' lavatories – all things he'd seen before.

Feeling vindictive, Severus decided to push harder than he'd done so far, brushing aside Harry's still weak attempts at blocking him. Driven by anger and frustration stemming from learning the truth, he dove into the darkest part of the boy's mind where his worst memories and deepest secrets were hidden. Without mercy, he ripped into the black center, letting lose the horrible things within.

"_Freak! …freak… Little freak!" _The voices of Lily's sister and husband and nephew echoed in his ears, but he had no time to think on what or who the words had been directed to before the memory of Black falling through the veil flew to the surface, quickly followed by Harry casting an unforgivable at Bellatrix Lestrange. Then came the feeling of Quirrell's skin burning under the boy's touch only to be chased away by the horrific sight of a skeletal, snake-like Voldemort rising from a bubbling caldron.

Severus shied away from the darkness he had so foolishly unleashed. Many of these memories he'd glimpsed before, it was true, but they had only been echoes. These images were _real_, and he could feel and hear and smell everything that Harry had when they'd occurred.

It was enough to make a grown, war hardened wizard sick knowing that a child's innocence and naivety had been replaced by cruelty, hate, and death.

In his moment of horror, Severus numbly allowed Harry to push him out, retreating willingly from the boy's troubled mind. Lowering his wand, he focused his obsidian eyes on the child before him, now sweaty and pale faced, feeling as if he was seeing the boy for the first time. The wasted time spent hating a person who never even existed fell to the background. The wound of Lily's loss that had reopened when he'd learned the truth was momentarily forgotten. All his feelings of animosity and disdain he'd so long directed at the boy were eclipsed in that moment, leaving only a child who'd been unfairly and unjustly given the damning task of Atlas.

"You git!" Harry exclaimed panting, his green eyes blazing like the curse that had sealed his fate.

And just like that the moment passed, and a young James Potter was standing in Harry's place. The familiar ire retook its usual place in the sneer he shot at the boy. "Ten points from Gryffindor for insulting a professor."

Harry spluttered, his face growing red with anger. "But you gave me your word you wouldn't enter my mind without warning! Not until I was ready!"

"Then, next time," he drawled, straightening himself. "Do not be late."

000

He was tired.

That was the short and simple truth.

In fact, Albus Dumbledore didn't think he'd ever been more tired in his life, and that was saying something seeing as he'd walked the Earth for well over a century.

Of course, this fact was irrelevant. He still had a job to do, people depending on him, a war to fight. It was not his first war, but a chill in his bones told him it would be his last. This did not bring him fear. He'd long ago learned that Death was not a thing to be feared, for in that particular fear laid the path to darkness and vileness and all that is evil and wrong.

No greater example of this fear of Death existed than Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort himself. And for this, he could never forgive himself. If only he'd seen the darkness in the heart of that little boy at the orphanage, if only he'd paid more attention as a professor, if only he'd followed what his instincts were telling him, so many deaths could have been prevented. But he hadn't seen or paid attention or followed his instincts, and the deaths had happened, and wizarding kind had once again looked to him to defeat the dark wizard who threatened them. Only this time, the enemy wasn't a man who'd once been a brother to him, wasn't a man he'd known everything about and understood implicitly. Tom Riddle was no Gellert Grindelwald, and no Albus Dumbledore, a wizard of a different age, could defeat him.

Albus had always known this, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to fight. He'd restarted the Order of the Phoenix, rallying the light behind him in the hopes that the one who was destined to defeat Tom would find their way to his ranks. And when the individual was found, he would teach them, guide them, and prepare them for the task that had once been his. But that person hadn't been found.

Not until one dark day when a prophecy was given to him foretelling the birth of the_ Chosen One_.

Suddenly, he'd found himself faced with a situation he hadn't anticipated. A child, a mere babe, was the one destined to stand against Tom. The thought was nearly unthinkable, but think on it he was forced to. Now, instead of training and leading an adult, he had to protect and shelter a child for years and years until they reached an age to take on the war.

Hope had been mixed with pessimistic exhaustion.

So, he'd watched over both the Potter child and the Longbottom child, knowing that the choice had come down to the two, small boys. And, after a year when it became apparent that Tom had made his choice, he'd put the Potters into hiding with their young son and Sirius Black as their secret keeper. However, unbeknownst to him, Mr. Black had only been the secret keeper for one week before handing the duty to one Peter Pettigrew.

And a week after Mr. Pettigrew became secret keeper, James and Lily Potter died.

It should have been simple after that night. A Dark Lord had been reduced to shadows, a mother and father had died, and a child had become an orphan. It should have been a simple matter. He'd known even then that the peace would be short lived, that the only safe place for the child was with his relatives, barricaded behind wards of blood and bond.

It would have been simple, but for a letter received by him two days before that Halloween night.

The letter had been from Lily, and it haunted a hidden drawer in his desk even now, fifteen years later.

Mrs. Potter's words had thrown yet another twist into his plans, clouding what he thought was a straightforward prophecy. In the fateful correspondence, Lily had divulged a secret that was much larger and encompassing than he could have imagined. She then asked for a promise. It was only one promise, and after learning the truth of the matter, it was far from unreasonable… yet he could not make it.

When news reached him of the Potters demise, his heart had grown heavy, and his shoulders bowed. He'd written a letter and delivered it with a sleeping child on the steps of a muggle couple and their small son.

Young Harry Potter's life may have been all a carefully choreographed act, but it was a necessary one. And Albus had to continue it, no matter how much Lily's desperate plea weighed on his conscience. The world needed its savior, and that was more important than one boy's identity.

The sun had long ago sunk under the horizon, his office filled with night unbroken by a candle flame or wand light. The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses snoozed in their frames, and the normally whirring trinkets that lay scattered about were still and quiet. Fawkes was on his perch, his red plumed head high, intelligent eyes watching Albus. The phoenix let out a mournful coo.

The current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat in his high backed chair, a piece of well-worn parchment clutched in his old fingers. He had no need to read the words inked thereon, having long ago branded them into his thoughts. It was the very letter that resided in the hidden drawer in his desk, the letter sent to him by Lily Potter, the letter that caused his current anguish.

For the first time since he'd left Harry Potter with the Dursleys, he doubted his decision.

In his life, he'd always strove to do what was right instead of what was easy.

Only now, in the twilight of his years as the war rose up all around him, did he realize that on that Halloween night fifteen years ago, he'd done what was _easy_… and not what was _right_.

Albus closed his tired eyes, but no sleep came, no respite was granted him.

000

"How much do you know?" Malfoy hissed at him, cornering him in the library. Harry turned startled eyes to the Slytherin, having got up in search of a book for his Charms essay and not noticing his approach.

"What?" he rather dumbly replied, trying to overcome his surprise at the blond seeking him out after weeks of avoidance.

"How _much_ do you _know_?" Malfoy's eyes were narrowed into menacing slits, his hair slightly askew. He jerked his head towards his left arm, and Harry got the message.

"I know enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"How did you find out?"

"Like I'd tell you."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed further. "Was it Snape?"

The question surprised him, and he couldn't stop his eyes from widening slightly. "No," he responded perhaps too quickly, and he could see vindication sliding into the Slytherin's eyes. Harry cursed silently, knowing he'd just given Malfoy dangerous information.

"I knew it," Malfoy grinned darkly, taking a step back. "Who else knows? Dumbledore?"

Harry gritted his teeth. "I don't know," he ground out. This second conversation was not going nearly as well as their first. He was hard pressed to keep his usual irritation at bay, biting his tongue to keep from spitting out an insult or two.

"What's your plan?" Malfoy pressed. "Going to try and stop me, is that it?"

Shaking his head, he forcefully spat, "No." This seemed to catch Malfoy's attention.

"You're not trying to stop me?" The Slytherin almost sounded like he was making a joke.

"No," Harry repeated.

"Going to expose me to the school? To the Aurors? Get me sent to Azkaban alongside my father?"

"No," he said again.

"Then what!" Malfoy nearly shouted, his nose flaring and fists clenched at his sides.

Remembering what Narcissa Malfoy had said to him in Diagon Alley, thinking of the images he'd seen in her memories, he answered quietly but not without resolve, "I just want to show you that you have another choice."

Malfoy stared at him in disbelief, then flung his fist harshly into the nearest bookcase, causing several large tomes to tumble to the floor in a cloud of dust. "You're _wrong!_" he snapped. "There isn't always a choice, Potter!"

"Go to Dumbledore," Harry tried to make him understand. "He can help you-"

"That barmy idiot wouldn't lift one bloody finger to help me. He's more worthless than you!"

"Dumbledore's a great man!" he hissed back, anger bubbling to the surface. He knew the Headmaster had his faults, but he didn't deserve to be talked about like that. He'd done far more for the wizarding world than Malfoy could ever dream of doing.

"Of course you'd think that, you're his little poster child, his precious _Chosen One_." Malfoy taunted.

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy." Harry snarled, hand itching to reach for his wand. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"And neither do you! So stop with this 'you have a choice' bit!"

Deciding to end the conversation before he did something he'd regret, Harry shoved roughly passed Malfoy, muttering under his breath, "I knew your mother was wrong… completely hopeless…"

A hand shot out, gripping his arm painfully. "What?" Malfoy whispered menacingly.

Harry shook the offending hand off, scowling. He hadn't meant for the blond to hear. "It doesn't matter."

He left before Malfoy could say anything else, marching past a bewildered looking Ron and Hermione, his homework forgotten. Running his hands roughly through his hair, he let out a frustrated sigh. He was trying for the sake of his mother, but the Slytherin was so infuriating. It all seemed so futile that someone like Malfoy, the epitome of pure blood elitism, could change his stripes.

He escaped the castle out into the cool October evening, walking over to his favorite spot near the lake. He threw himself down into the grass, something Malfoy had said nagging at him. The blond had told him that there wasn't always a choice, and Harry couldn't deny the truth of that statement. Where was his choice when it came to him and Voldemort? True, he could choose how he dealt with his fate, but was that really a _choice_?

How could he make Malfoy believe in something that he didn't even have?

"Mum," he whispered. "I don't know what to do."

The wind through the trees was the only response.

000

End Chapter Five! Apologies for any mistakes (I'm sure there's at least one lurking in there somewhere). I'm tired, but this chapter's been bugging me and I wanted it get it done and posted. Besides, I'm terrible at grammar and spelling anyways :) Not being tired probably wouldn't make much of a difference in my editing skills!

Alright, not really pleased with Snape's part (I just find his character so hard to capture), and this last bit was causing me a good amount of trouble. I'm not really satisfied with it, but I didn't want to spend several chapters with a brooding Harry and gloomy Draco, boring to write and read (New Moon, anyone? Sorry to any twihards out there, but that book was nauseatingly depressing and despondent). I wanted to get all the mopey-ness out in one chapter so we can get into more of the meat of the story.

I've got a lot of next chapter written, and it's shaping up to be a long one. I'm pretty excited to get it up, so look for it in the next week I'd say.

Keep up the amazing reviews! Also, let me know if you'd prefer me to personally reply to your reviews. I've never done so before, but I was wondering if it matters a lot to readers.


	7. Chapter 6

**The Bond of Brothers**

**A/N:** Just want to note that I'm playing off a few canon events in this chapter. This is the last bit of canon that will be remotely recognizable.

Thank you all, my wonderful reviewers!

**Chapter Six**

It was well past curfew, the many darkened halls of Hogwarts filled only with the quiet sounds of sleeping portraits, yet three people were currently roaming the castle. The first, and the only person who was supposed to be walking the corridors, was Filch accompanied by his faithful Mrs. Norris. The second was Draco Malfoy who'd snuck out of the Slytherin dorms and was cautiously making his way to an unknown location. The third was Harry Potter, hidden expertly beneath his invisibility cloak, creeping silently and quickly with the intent to spy on the wayward Slytherin.

Over the past week, Harry had taken to using the Marauder's Map to check up on Malfoy. He was growing increasingly frustrated that he'd yet to discover even a hint of what the Slytherin's task for Voldemort was, and he'd hoped using the Map would give him some clues to Malfoy's intentions. Yet, so far, the Map had only provided further mystery.

Somehow, every night, Malfoy was leaving Hogwarts. Or at least, that was the only explanation Harry could come up with as to why the Slytherin simply disappeared from the Map each night.

Harry had tried to catch him in the act of leaving the castle, but between quidditch, homework, and his friends looking over his shoulder, he hadn't been able to constantly keep an eye on the Map. But tonight was different. His friends had all gone off to bed early in anticipation for the first Hogsmeade trip the next day, and he'd been able to sit in his dorm with the curtains drawn, watching the Map uninterrupted. He'd been ready, invisibility cloak in hand, and as soon as he saw Malfoy leaving the Slytherin dorms, he raced to catch him.

Now, he was only one floor away from having the blond in his sights. At first, he'd rushed towards the Entrance Hall, thinking that to be Malfoy's most likely destination, but had quickly found himself racing back up the way he'd come. With each floor higher he climbed, his curiosity and confusion grew, his desire to discover the Slytherin's secret burning in his chest and making his feet carrying him faster. As he climbed the last steps up to the sixth floor, he glanced down at the old parchment in his hand, noting Malfoy was only two corridors away. He made to run, but a noise from behind him froze him in place. Hesitantly, he turned his head and cursed silently at what he saw.

It was Mrs. Norris, her yellow gaze impervious to his invisibility cloak.

In his haste to catch Malfoy, he'd completely forgotten to keep track of the caretaker's movements. Only now did he hear the wheezy breathing and uneven steps that heralded the near arrival of Filch. Instantly, Harry pressed himself up to the nearest wall, trying to make himself as thin as possible, breathing only slightly. The next second, Filch appeared around a corner on the steps, red in the face, looking like he'd been chasing something. Chasing his cat, Harry realized, who'd in turn been chasing him.

"What is it, my sweet?" the caretaker panted, darting his beady eyes all around. He came further up the steps, stopping so close that Harry could smell his rotten breath. "Students out of bed?" Filch asked hopefully.

After a tense minute, Filch relaxed and bent to pick up Mrs. Norris. The cat gave an irritated meow, flicking her tail in Harry's direction, but her old owner didn't seem to notice. "Must have been a mouse, eh my sweet?" he cooed kindly, the sound making Harry slightly sick. And with that, the caretaker turned back around, presumably headed off to his office, Mrs. Norris held firmly in his arms.

Once Harry was sure Filch was far enough away, he allowed himself to breath freely. Stepping away from the wall, he quickly started off down the corridor again, checking the Map as he went. Scanning the nearby area, he came to an abrupt halt, eyes widening in disbelief.

Malfoy was gone.

Angrily, Harry scoured every inch of the castle, but the Slytherin was nowhere to be found. He growled in frustration. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes that he'd been held up by Filch, and Malfoy had been in the middle of the castle. It was impossible for him to have gotten out of the school and off the grounds so quickly.

He stayed there for another ten minutes, just watching and waiting, but he eventually gave up on the futile effort. Malfoy was long gone, and the opportunity to discover what he was doing was lost, at least for the time being. Besides, it had to be well past two in the morning, and he'd promised to meet Ginny before breakfast. Temporarily defeated, he made his way back to Gryffindor tower, determined to try again tomorrow.

000

"Something wrong, Harry?"

The question startled him out his thoughts, and he turned to look at her. "What?"

Ginny frowned, her warm eyes concerned. "You seem a little distracted this morning."

"Sorry," Harry apologized, forcing his thoughts into the present. "Didn't sleep well."

"Bad dreams?"

"Something of the sort," he sidestepped. "But let's talk about something else."

Ginny didn't look convinced, but granted his request, changing the subject to a letter she'd gotten from her mum yesterday. Harry listened as she talked, taking the chance to admire the way her hair fell around her face, and the way her cheeks turned pink in the cold October morning breeze. Nothing had happened between them since that night at the Burrow where they'd nearly kissed, but Harry couldn't deny that he'd grown closer to her over the last two months. It was easier to forget about Malfoy and his mother's past and the prophecy when he was with her. She had that effect on him; that as long as she was there beside him, nothing else really mattered.

As they walked side by side into the small wizarding village, Harry let his frustrations and worries settle in the back of his mind, focusing instead on enjoying the day, if for nothing else but to make Ginny happy. They spent the morning flitting in and out of shops, looking at every random and strange thing they could find. He even started truly laughing and smiling before long. And by the time they entered the Three Broomsticks to meet Ron and Hermione for a late lunch, Harry found himself holding Ginny's hand tightly in his own, unaware as to when he'd first taken it.

Ron and Hermione had already found a table towards the back, and they wound their way through the crowd of Hogwarts students to reach them. As they took their seats, Harry noticed his friend's face growing to match the shade of his hair, his eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

"What's with you and my sister?" Ron asked menacingly, which earned him a jab in the ribs courtesy of Hermione's elbow.

Harry immediately disentangled his fingers from Ginny's. "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," challenged Ron.

"Leave him alone, Ron!" Ginny huffed. "We're just friends."

"How daft do you think I am?" Ron spluttered, but before a full blown Weasley argument could erupt, Hermione intervened, loudly asking Harry to go get them all some butterbeers, to which he was more than happy to oblige.

He returned to the table five minutes later, four butterbeers in hand. The girls were caught up in a conversation about a pair of dress robes Hermione had seen that morning while Ron sat frowning with his arms crossed. However, after Harry asked how the Chudley Cannons were doing this season, Ron's anger rapidly disappeared as they fell into the familiar territory of quidditch.

When the four of them finally left the Three Broomsticks to head back to the castle, it was nearing time for dinner, the setting sun taking the warmth with it. Harry cast a warming charm on Ginny when she started to shiver half way back to the castle, earning him a glare from Ron, but the trip passed rather pleasantly otherwise. Harry couldn't help thinking that today had been almost perfect. It'd been so long since he'd let himself relax. He'd forgotten how nice it was to simply spend time with his friends and have fun, to act his age. He wondered briefly if this was how everyday would've been without Voldemort, but quickly pushed the thought away. It only made things worse to dwell on what might have been.

As they neared the last bend before reaching the school gates, raised voices suddenly followed by an ear piercing scream echoed from up ahead, and Harry's light heartedness vanished. Reacting on instinct, he raced ahead, the others following close behind. They rounded the curve with their wands drawn and ready, but none were prepared for the ghastly sight that meant them. A girl, who Harry recognized after a moment as Katie Bell, was suspended in midair, her face a mask of pain and terror, while another girl with her back to them watched on.

"Ron, help me get her down!" Harry shouted, pulling his friend forward. They rushed to Katie, and together, managed to grab hold of her flailing feet and pull her back to earth. By the time they had her back on the ground, Hermione and Ginny had caught up with them, the former moving over to the other girl who was now in a fit of hysterics while the latter knelt to help hold Katie's withering limbs.

Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione asking the crying girl what had happened, but it was hard to concentrate over Katie's horrified screams. Casting his eyes about for any hints as to what was happening, his eyes alighted on a ripped brown paper package, an ornate looking necklace spilling out onto the ground from the torn wrapping. The necklace sent a jolt of cold through him, black magic practically oozing from it, and he knew it was to blame. Why had Katie had something so dark? He wanted to ask the other girl where it had come from, but he held his tongue. Right now, the more pressing matter was stopping whatever curse or spell was hurting Katie.

He turned to look towards the castle, hoping they were close enough to the school that a professor had happened to hearing Katie's bloodcurdling screams. But there was only one person anywhere near them, and he had his back to them, walking quickly away from them towards the castle. As he watched, the person glanced nervously over his shoulder, revealing the pale face of Draco Malfoy. The Slytherin caught his gaze, then took off running towards the castle.

Fury burst to life in Harry's veins, turning his blood hot. He didn't know why or how, but he was certain this was Malfoy's doing, that this had something to do with his task for Voldemort. Cursing colorfully, Harry stood and sprinted after the retreating Slytherin, leaving his friends to take care of Katie, ignoring their calls for him to stop.

As he chased after Malfoy, Harry wasn't sure who he was angrier with – Malfoy for being a Death Eater, for hurting Katie, or himself for not trying harder to stop him, for trusting Snape and Mrs. Malfoy… for believing, however slightly, that Malfoy could change.

Red. All he could see was red. Red blood. There was just _so much _of it. It was everywhere. It was dying the floor, splattered on the wall, staining his torn shirt, spilling out of his shredded chest.

No, not his chest, not his blood, it was Draco's. The blond haired boy was twitching and jerking, moaning as his heart kept pumping the very life out of him. He could do nothing, his legs like pillars of stone, heavy and unmovable.

Vaguely, in some distant part of his brain that was still functioning, he heard a loud bang followed by a strangled sort of shout. A black figure swooped into view, its dark body blocking out some of the red.

"Potter? Potter!" He heard the figure shout, and jolted as he remembered that was his name. "What happened?"

He attempted to answer, but he found he couldn't recall. His eyes darted around the dingy bathroom as if seeing it for the first time. How had he got here?

"Argh!" a furious growl echoed off the tiled walls. "Follow me, Potter. Quickly!" the figure barked at him, and he found himself obeying automatically, limbs that had previously been frozen coming back to life.

In a numb state of confusion, he raced through the corridors, following in the shadow of the black figure that was carrying something in his arms… something that was dripping blood onto the floor. Not something, someone, he realized. Draco - the boy who was dying.

They burst into a room with white walls and tidy beds. A woman came running to meet them. Madam Pomfrey, his mind provided. Together, she and the figure maneuvered the still bleeding boy onto one of the tidy beds. She instantly started to wave her wand over his severely wounded body while the figure rushed to a cabinet, bringing back several bottles filled with some kind of potion.

He sat down on the bed next to Draco's, barely able to keep up with what was being said and done, and not yet understanding what had happened. Only small snippets were able to break through his hazy consciousness.

"Potter… duel."

"…lost too much…"

"Too late… potion won't work…"

"It will… won't let him die."

"Pulse is stronger…"

Suddenly, the black figure bore down on him, a long fingered hand wrapping tightly around his arm. "What happened, Potter?" a menacing voice snarled. "Where did you learn that spell?"

He looked up into obsidian eyes, and a dam broke. His shocked stupor ripped away and clarity entered his thoughts once again. His memories of the last hour came rushing back, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

"I… will he be okay?" he whispered desperately.

"He will live," Snape, for that was who the black figure was, answered tersely. "Now, I will not ask again. Tell me what happened."

Harry swallowed, his throat dry, tongue scratching the roof of his mouth like sandpaper. "I followed him," he said weakly.

"Why?"

"I thought he cursed Katie. I was angry."

"So you attacked him?"

"No, he attacked me first."

"Where did you learn that spell?"

"What spell?"

"The one that nearly cost Draco his life, you idiotic child!"

"Oh… it was in his book."

"Whose?"

"The Half Blood Prince."

Snape jerked away, a strange noise sounding from his throat, his black eyes widening before narrowing to slits. Harry knew he should be wondering why that name drew such a reaction from the Potions Master, but he found that all he could focus on was the bed next to his. With a mix of horror and relief, he watched Draco's chest shallowly rise and fall. His blood ran cold as he fully understood what had just occurred.

He had almost killed someone.

His stomach twisted and he felt like being sick. Shaking, he dropped his head into his hands, sucking in a deep breath. He'd been so angry, furious even, that he had wanted to hurt Draco. He thought there was still hope for him, that maybe he hadn't made his choice yet, that maybe he could still be turned to the light. But when he saw Katie, screaming under the effects of dark magic, he'd known instantly that he was wrong. He'd raced after the Slytherin, finally cornering him in the girls' lavatory.

"_Katie was innocent!" _

"_I didn't mean for her to get hurt!"_

"_Then why did you do it?"_

"_Don't you see, Potter? It's the only way!"_

Harry flinched at the remembered exchange between him and Draco. He'd seen how hurt and afraid the Slytherin was, but he'd been too caught up to care. Then, the blond had unexpectedly thrown a _crucio _his way, and he'd reacted on instinct, firing back with a spell he knew absolutely nothing about. He wished he'd listened to Ginny and burned the blasted book. She was right, it had only led to regret.

A flurry of movement managed to distract him, and he glanced over at Snape as the man swept over to the Hospital wing's fireplace. With a burst of green, he thrust his head into the magical flames. Dread started to creep in on his thoughts, thinking the professor must be speaking to Dumbledore. What would the headmaster say when he learned the light's savior was hardly better than a Death Eater?

The conversation was evidently brief, as Snape moved away from the grate after less than a minute. He stepped hastily aside, keeping his eyes on the now orange fire, waiting. A moment later, the flames flashed emerald, and Harry steeled himself to face the disappointment he was sure would be written on Dumbledore's wise face. However, the person who stepped gracefully out into the Hospital was most certainly not the aged Headmaster.

It was Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he took in the woman he'd not seen since that day in Diagon Alley, to whom he'd made a promise to help her son. His stomach clenched, and, strangely, he found he was more afraid of facing her than Dumbledore.

Narcissa, however, didn't appear to see him, eyes glued to the limp body of her son. Her grey eyes, so like Draco's, were raw with worry, her face devoid of color. Forgoing her normal decorum, she ran forward, her sharps heels clattering across the floor, and collapsed against the side of her son's bed. She scooped up his lifeless hand, bringing it lovingly to her lips, kissing his fingers tenderly.

"Draco," she whispered brokenly. "My son, I'm here. I'm here."

Silently, Snape approached the distraught mother and placed a spidery hand on her shoulder. "He's going to be alright, Narcissa. We were able to stop the bleeding and administer the blood replenishing potion in time," he spoke in a voice that could almost be considered comforting, and Harry looked at him strangely. He'd never heard the Professor speak with anything less of a sneer. It was disconcerting to see him this way, as if he actually might care about someone else's feelings.

Nodding, Narcissa asked, "When will he wake up?"

"Hard to say," Snape answered, still in that same, soothing tone. "His body has gone through quite a shock. It could be a few minutes or a few days."

She gripped Draco's hand tighter at that, and Snape quickly added, "He is strong."

"Yes, yes he is," she agreed, reaching a hand out to brush a stray blond hair off his face.

The room lapsed into silence, each second that passed making Harry's discomfort grow. He wanted nothing more than to leave, to get away from the awful consequences of his actions, but fear kept him in place. He didn't want to do anything to draw attention to him, having been temporarily forgotten by Snape, and not even noticed by Narcissa. So, he stayed still on his bed, stuck, hoping for a distraction that would allow him to slip away unnoticed.

Unfortunately, the distraction that came in the next instant eliminated all hope of an inconspicuous escape.

"Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey's voice rang through the Hospital wing, and Narcissa's head instantly snapped up to look at him. "Lay back in that bed and stay there until I can check you over, young man," she ordered him briskly as she exited her office, carrying several small bottles of salve. Harry cringed, determinedly keeping his eyes down as he leaned back against the pillow.

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a weak attempt to protest, but was soundly ignored.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" Pomfrey exclaimed in surprise as she came close enough to notice the woman still kneeling by the side of Draco's bed. "I wasn't aware that you'd been contacted already," she said, narrowing her eyes as she glanced to Snape.

"I took the liberty," Snape answered coolly.

"I see," Pomfrey muttered, unscrewing the lid of one of the bottles. "You alerted Dumbledore as well, then?" she asked, applying a clear salve to the halfway healed cuts across Draco's chest.

Snape shifted, drawing himself up to his full, intimidating height. "The Headmaster does not need to be troubled with this."

The nurse straightened immediately, a look of indignation on her face. "What? A student almost died, Severus! And he should be alerted that a parent is at Hogwarts!"

"There are special circumstance," Snape began icily, but was interrupted.

"Special circumstances?" Pomfrey all but hollered, her voice several notches higher. "All I know is that I have two boys in my infirmary, one severely injured and one in shock, and it is my _professional duty_ to alert the Headmaster."

Harry watched the argument cautiously, wondering what exactly Snape meant by 'special circumstances'. Did it have something to do with the mysterious task Draco was supposed to accomplish?

"Please, Poppy," a soft voice stopped his thoughts, and his eyes turned to Narcissa who had pulled herself to her feet. Her eyes were rimmed in red, her face an open mask of worry and concern.

Pomfrey stilled, staring at the other woman, searching. Finally, her expression softened slightly, a part of her empathizing with the distraught mother, though her eyes stayed firm. "I will not tell him tonight, but in the morning he will have to be notified of Mr. Malfoy's condition."

Narcissa smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Poppy." She cleared her throat, and then continued carefully, "Would it be okay if we had some privacy?"

Hesitating a moment, Pomfrey gave a dip of her head. "Of course. I will need to reapply the salve in an hour," she replied, turning around to examine Harry instead.

"Harry, too." Narcissa's voice drifted over them, causing both Harry and Pomfrey to stiffen, one in annoyance and the other in trepidation.

Harry looked up the nurse he usually hoped not to see, fervently wishing she wouldn't leave him alone. Pomfrey, however, merely clicked her tongue before walking to her office, muttering under her breath something along the lines of 'damn special circumstances my arse'.

He stared after her as she loudly snapped her office door shut, unable to believe that the hovering nurse had actually abandoned him. His heart sped up in his chest, his eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at the only other people in the wing. He didn't know why Narcissa would want to speak with him without Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore, but he was sure he would not like whatever she had to say. After all, he'd almost killed her only son after promising to help him. Not to mention that he was still the one responsible for putting her husband in Azkaban.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out, surprising himself, not having meant to speak. "I didn't know what the spell would do… I didn't mean… I never would have used it if I'd known!" he stammered, fumbling to find words to make up for what he'd done, but knowing none ever could.

A soft touch on his arm startled him, and he jerked in surprise.

"Harry," a gentle voice soothed him. "Harry, it's okay."

His eyes flew up to meet the stormy grey belonging to Narcissa. She had come around to stand between his and Draco's beds, her face containing more sadness than he thought possible. Vaguely, he realized her hand was still on his arm, but he made no move to pull away.

"I tried to help him," he struggled to explain. "And I thought maybe he might've listened. But then Katie was cursed, and I knew it was him." Narcissa glanced over her shoulder at Snape when he mentioned Katie, but quickly brought her attention back to him. "I was so upset, but I never meant to hurt him like that! You have to believe me," he finished mournfully, wanting to make her understand.

She smiled sadly at him, grasping his hand with both of hers in a manner eerily similar to how she'd held her son's only moments before.

"I believe you, Harry." Relief poured into him at the sincerity in her words, but she wasn't done yet. "And I don't blame you. This, tonight, wasn't your fault."

Harry blinked. "But I was the one who cast the spell."

"I know. However, I should have never let it come to this." A faraway look fell over her eyes for a brief moment before it vanished. "Everything that's happened has been my fault, Harry. It's time I put an end to it."

Snape strode over to her with a calculating expression. "I'm not sure this is the best place or time, Narcissa. Perhaps we should…"

"No, Severus, I should have done this years ago. After the events of tonight, I simply _cannot_ go on."

"What are you talking about?" Harry questioned. Both Narcissa and Snape turned to gaze at him, and he shrunk back, starting to think that he'd be better off in ignorance.

"Harry," Narcissa began, her voice measured, her hands tightening their grip on his. "You know that Lily was my closest friend," she waited for him to nod, then continued. "We had a secret, Lily, James, and I, one that I've held close to my heart for all these years, too afraid to share it with anyone. I realize now, that this was a mistake… but I can't take back the past, no matter how much I wish I could." She paused, breathing shakily.

Her next words made his heart freeze, his blood running cold. "That secret was about you."

"Me?" he whispered numbly. "What about me?"

Narcissa seemed to quiver in distress, tears threatening to spill over, but before she could gather enough strength to answer him, the doors to the Hospital Wing flung open with a bang. Pomfrey immediately stuck her head out of her office, and, upon catching sight of the figure at the entrance, called out in relief, "Albus! Thank Merlin you're here!"

Dumbledore strode purposefully towards the small group, and Narcissa hastily dropped Harry's hand, trying to compose herself in the Headmaster's presence. His blue eyes held no trace of a twinkle as they flicked between the prone form of Draco, Harry's wide eyes, and the stiff Potions Master before finally settling on the woman who should not have been there.

"Mrs. Malfoy, it is not the custom for students' parents to arrive unannounced," he told her, keeping his tone light though his meaning was clear.

Snape stepped forward, saving Narcissa from answering. "I felt it prudent given her son's critical condition."

Dumbledore turned his gaze to the black robed professor. "Yet you did not feel it necessary to contact me?"

"I did not wish to distract you from your inquires on the earlier attack on Ms. Bell," Snape told the Headmaster without blinking an eye.

"I see," the aged wizard replied, voice betraying nothing of his thoughts on the excuse. "What is Mr. Malfoy's condition, Poppy?" he asked of the nurse.

"He is stable," she answered promptly. "Severus brought him here just in time to reverse the blood loss. He'll tire easily for the next week or two, but there should be no lasting effects."

"Very good. Well then, Mrs. Malfoy, as your son is no longer in danger, I must ask you to leave the school grounds."

Wringing her hands, Harry could a see a desperate fire spark to life in Narcissa. "Surely I can stay until he wakes, Headmaster."

"These are dark times, Mrs. Malfoy, as I'm sure you're aware. I cannot make allowances."

Narcissa deflated. "May I at least have a moment to say goodbye?" she asked, eyes darting nearly imperceptibly to Harry.

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore permitted. "We shall give you a few moments in private." He turned to Snape. "Severus, if you would escort Mr. Potter back to Gryffindor tower. I believe he's had enough for one night."

"No!" Narcissa's sharp cry startled Harry.

Dumbledore eyed her from behind his glasses. "Was there something else, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, struggling to keep her tone under control. "I only meant to ask if Harry could stay."

Something dark flashed in Dumbledore's eyes before he answered, "I see no reason for Mr. Potter to remain here. I believe it would be best for him to return to his dormitory."

"Actually, sir," Harry spoke up for the first time since Dumbledore had entered the Hospital. He couldn't leave, not when Narcissa had just been about to tell him a secret that only she and his parents had known. He didn't know when he'd get another chance to talk to her again. "I want to stay."

"Never mind that," Pomfrey cut in. "The boy is in shock, Albus, I must insist that he stay overnight so I can keep an eye on him." Her words fell on deaf ears.

"Come, Harry, I'm sure your friends are wondering where you are." Dumbledore motioned, sweeping out his arm, something almost urgent in his movements.

"But… I…" Harry stammered, unwilling to do as he was told. Quickly, he tried to think of any excuse that would allow him to stay, but one was supplied for him from the last person in the room he expected.

"I must concur with Madam Pomfrey, Headmaster. It would not be prudent to remove Potter from medical observation," said Snape, his face impassive.

"Now, now," Dumbledore again brushed off the protests. "There's nothing wrong that a good nights rest in one's own bed won't cure. Let's go, Harry, I'll escort you there myself."

Helplessly, Harry turned to Narcissa, his hope rapidly dwindling, only to find that she was not paying him any attention. Instead, her grey eyes were focused pointedly on the Headmaster, a strange expression on her features that he couldn't quite place. Slowly, she walked around the edge of his bed, approaching Dumbledore.

"Why are you uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Harry in my presence?" she asked him, an icy edge to her words.

Tension descended over the room at her question. Dumbledore meant her gaze evenly, all traces of softness gone from his eyes.

"Given who your husband is, I would think the answer obvious," he responded in kind.

She scoffed. "You're a smart man, Dumbledore. You know exactly where my loyalties lie. No, you're afraid," here, she paused, twisted triumph darkening her face.

"_You know_."

Mind still foggy from the after effects of shock, Harry was unsure of what exactly Narcissa was accusing Dumbledore of knowing. However, if the way the Headmaster seemed to crumble was any indication, it was clear the aged wizard needed no further clarification.

"I don't know what you speak of, Mrs. Malfoy, but-"

"She told you, didn't she? It's the only way you could know," she cut across him.

Dumbledore hesitated only a moment before sighing in defeat, conceding with a quiet, "Yes, yes she did."

Snape's dark eyes widened at the confession, but showed no other outward signs of surprise while Pomfrey looked as confused as Harry felt. Narcissa, however, appeared to inflate with rage, all the color draining quickly from her face.

"How long have you known?" she practically shrieked, reminding Harry of a raging snowstorm.

Dumbledore deflated further. "She wrote me a letter only days before she died."

A horrible laugh echoed around the high vaulted room. "Fifteen years?" Narcissa spat. "You've kept him from me for over _fifteen _years? How dare you!"

"I did what was necessary to keep him safe," the Headmaster answered, but even he looked unconvinced of the sincerity of his words.

"Safe?" Narcissa's voice went higher than Harry thought possible. "He faced the Dark Lord when he was _eleven years old_! He's nearly died on more than one occasion, been kidnapped, had people murdered in front of him! How can you even presume to call that keeping him safe?"

All doubt that they were speaking about him was blown away, but this knowledge did nothing other than add more confusion to his troubled thoughts. Harry was sure that this had something to do with the secret she'd been about to tell him, but why would she accuse the Headmaster of keeping him from her? Had his mother wanted him to go to Narcissa if anything happened to his parents, just as she'd wanted his parents to take her son? He glanced briefly over at Draco wondering what his life would have been like growing up with the Slytherin instead of Dudley. He was surprised to find, however, that the blond was no longer unconscious. His grey eyes, so like his mother's, were open, blinking slowly as he looked first at his mother and Dumbledore, and then to him. His eyes held his silent question.

Harry shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, wordlessly telling Draco that he had no idea what was going on. Draco struggled up into a semi-sitting position, his mouth contorted in pain, but he kept silent. Both boys turned their attention back to the arguing adults, none of whom had noticed their quick exchange.

"I can't believe this!" Narcissa continued ranting. "All these years I was afraid to come forward, and you knew the entire time… and now you are trying to keep the truth from him! Why, Dumbledore? Why do you not want him to know who he is?"

"What do you mean, who I am?" Harry couldn't stop himself from saying, although neither Narcissa or Dumbledore heard him. He knew who he was; the whole bloody wizarding world knew he was. Something cold and heavy began to form in his stomach. He was getting a very bad feeling about what exactly Narcissa was implying.

"I have only done what I deemed to be right. So much rests on his shoulders already, I did not wish to burden him further," Dumbledore finally defended himself, his voice quiet yet firm.

"It was not your decision to make!"

"I was the only one left to make it."

A loud slap echoed through the stunned room as Narcissa's hand connected solidly with the side of Dumbledore's face. "_Don't you dare_," her voice was deadly soft. "You cannot imagine what I gave up all those years ago, what I've endured every day since to keep him safe, to protect them both."

Dumbledore nodded, unfazed in the face of her anger. "I have only done the same as you, Mrs. Malfoy. I have protected him to the best of my abilities."

"And what about tonight, Dumbledore? Where was your protection?" Harry exchanged and uncomfortable look with Draco as the argument turned towards the duel that had brought them to this moment.

"What happened tonight between Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy was an unfortunate accident-"

"An _unfortunate accident_? Is that what you call it? Harry very nearly killed Draco in the _unfortunate accident_. He almost killed his own brother!"

Silence followed Narcissa's shouted exclamation; the only sound her heavy breathing, her chest heaving with rage. Harry froze, his ears ringing. He must have heard wrong, he concluded. She hadn't just called Draco his… brother. It just wasn't possible. He _had_ to have heard wrong.

"What did you say?" he heard himself ask although he was unaware of his mouth moving.

Narcissa spun to face him, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide, and Harry's heart took off in his chest. Her reaction was all the confirmation he needed. He pressed himself up against the back of his bed, his whole body screaming in protest at the truth staring at him. She took a tentative step towards him, a hand outstretched, but he flinched away.

"No, stay back," he snapped, trying to squash the panic growing in his chest.

"Harry," Narcissa spoke, her voice vulnerable, eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like love. "I didn't want you to find out this way."

"Find out what?" he asked, his voice several notches higher. A voice whispered in his ear that he already knew the answer, but he ignored it. It couldn't be what he was thinking; it was too ridiculous, too outlandish.

"The secret I was going to tell you," she said, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek. She breathed in shakily, gathering her strength before whispering, "I know this will be hard for you to hear, Harry, but Lily and James… they weren't your true parents."

"No! You're lying!" Harry shouted, his eyes darting to Dumbledore. "She's lying!" But the old Headmaster merely shook his head, his blue eyes dim behind his half moon spectacles.

"Lily and James loved you like their own, Harry," Narcissa rushed to assure him, but each word she spoke only made his heart beat harder. "And I know they'd be so proud of you… but Lily couldn't have children."

"No, no, no," Harry muttered under his breath, not wanting to hear what Narcissa said next but unable to move, his limbs heavy and unresponsive.

"Harry," Narcissa closed the distant between them, snatching his hand up. Her lower lip trembled as she gazed at him, her eyes bursting with raw emotion. "You're _my_ son… I'm your mother."

"NO!" Harry shouted, regaining the use of his body as he flung himself away from this woman claiming to be his mother, who was looking at him with such love in her eyes that he couldn't stand it. He fell to the floor on the other side of the bed and quickly scrambled to his feet. "I don't believe you!"

"Harry," Narcissa spoke his name brokenly, tears falling uncontrollably from her eyes as she collapsed on his empty bed, her legs unable to support her. He knew it was his reaction that was causing her pain, but he couldn't bring himself to care. If what she said was true, than his entire life was a lie. Everything he'd ever been told, the people he'd spent his life dreaming of and trying to make proud, weren't even his parents.

He looked desperately around the room, searching for someone to tell him that this was all just some sick joke. Dumbledore simply gazed sorrowfully at him, while Pomfrey looked back and forth between the sobbing Narcissa and him, trying to decide which she should go to first. But it was Snape's expression of pity in his normally hard eyes that crushed his last shred of hope that this was all just a nightmare.

Without meaning to, he suddenly found himself meeting the wide, disbelieving eyes of Draco, the boy he'd almost killed tonight, his school enemy… his supposed brother. He tore his eyes away, unable to stand it.

He fled, sprinting out of the Hospital Wing and away from those haunted grey eyes.

000

End Chapter Six.

Well, again, I should stop making allusions as to when I'll update again, as I obviously never seem to stick to them! Apologies.

The whole reveal scene was the first thing I rewrote from the old version, and I'm still not entirely happy with it. It's one of those things were I've got it pictured perfectly in my head, but can't seem to write it _just_ right. Also, having read dozens of other stories with similar situations, it's hard to find an original voice to put to it. Anyways, let me know your thoughts!

Also, I purposefully left out conversations with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's concern over the HBP book and Harry's obsession with it because I didn't want to just rehash things from canon, so hopefully the fact that those concerns were still present was understood.

Review, please and thank you : )


	8. Chapter 7

**The Bond of Brothers**

**A/N:** Hopefully there are no continuity issues in this chapter as I was going back and forth between the old version and the new, rewritten chapters. If you notice anything, drop me a review and I'll correct it! Thanks

**Chapter Seven**

Hallucinating. Delusional. Mental. Insane.

These were the only answers Draco could come up with to explain what had just happened, what he'd just witnessed. Because what he'd _thought_ he'd heard simply didn't make sense, couldn't be real. He glanced around the hospital wing, taking in the stunned silence in the wake of Potter's abrupt departure. The only noise came from his mother as she sat hunched over, sobbing into her hands on the bed Potter had fled. He watched in numb confusion, unable to process why his mother was crying, not sure what to do.

Severus was the first to move. He strode over to his mother, and, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, said, "I'll find him." His tone was gentle, more so than he'd ever heard the Potions Master use before. His mother gave a jerky nodded, and the older man exited the hospital wing moments later, his black robes sweeping around the corner in his haste.

Draco shifted in his bed, pushing himself into a more dignified position. His movement drew the attention of Dumbledore and Pomfrey, but he ignored them, his eyes focused solely on his mother. "Mum?" he called out, his voice timid and scratchy.

Instantly, his mother stiffened, her crying coming to a stop with a short intake of breath. She turned to face him, and he could see the paleness of her skin, the dark smudges under her eyes, the wetness on her cheeks, the way she bit nervously into her bottom lip. He took in all of this, but it was the devastation in her eyes that sent a chill down his spine.

"Draco?" she whispered. "You… you're awake?" she asked, and it almost sounded like she wished him still unconscious.

He shook his head weakly, feeling incredibly drained. "Mum… what…?"

"Shh, don't try to speak, darling," his mother tried to quiet him, practically lunging for him, reaching out a hand to smooth back his hair. As she did so, he noticed the uncontrollable shaking of her fingers.

He pulled away from her touch. "No," he insisted, swallowing to trying and clear his throat. "What did you mean…" he sucked in a breath, hardly able to even repeat what he'd heard in his pain-induced fantasy, because surely it wasn't true. Yet, still, he had to ask. "You told Potter… you're his m-mother?"

His mother looked down at him fearfully. "You heard that?"

"I was dreaming, wasn't I?" He shook his head, as if the action would clear everything up, make the world right again, get rid of this weird reality he'd woken up to. "Because what I heard…"

"You're not dreaming, Draco," his mother cut him off softly.

His eyes snapped to hers. "Then what you said was true?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

"But," he struggled, coming to the conclusion Potter had obviously reached moments earlier, the conclusion that had spurred his panicked departure. Suddenly, Draco felt a very similar urge rising in his own limbs. "That would mean… Potter and I…" he trailed off, unable to finish such a traitorous thought.

"Yes, he's my son," his mother confirmed, tears again falling from her eyes. "Your brother."

If he'd had the strength, Draco would have followed Potter's example. However, seeing as he barely could twitch his toes, he was rooted to the spot, unable to escape the repercussions of what his mother had just told him. He tore his eyes away from her, not wanting to see her, not wanting to hear anything she had to say. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, his heart speeding up as the pain confirmed that he wasn't caught up in some nightmare.

Not a hallucination or a delusion. He wasn't going mental or insane.

No, this was much, much worse than that.

Harry-_bloody_-Potter, Gryffindor's Golden boy, muggle-born and half-breed lover, champion of the Light, was his brother. The very person he'd spent the better part of his Hogwarts career hating and taunting and plotting against was his _family_.

He wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the notion, but the urge was swept quickly away by the feeling of bile rising in his throat. He was a Death Eater, his father was a Death Eater, his aunt was a _psychotic_ Death Eater, and now he was intimately connected to the Dark Lord's number one enemy, the only person who'd managed to evade him time and time again, the boy he most wanted to kill.

With this sobering thought, he turned back to his mother who was once again sobbing. "How?" he murmured desperately. "I d-don't understand…" His throat was parched, his whole body aching.

Dumbledore approached then, his mother offering little protest as he pulled her gently to her feet.

"I think that is a question better left for tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy," the headmaster told him, his eyes tired behind his spectacles. "I'll escort your mother to a guest room for the night. You should get some rest."

Draco nodded numbly, to weak to voice a protest, his eyelids already beginning to droop. Guiding his mother, Dumbledore left the hospital wing, pausing only to ask for Pomfrey's silence to which the nurse immediately agreed. Once the pair had left, Pomfrey helped him into a more comfortable position before quickly retreating to her office, telling him to call if he needed anything. She appeared distinctly uncomfortable, shutting her door with a sharp snap.

Alone, Draco let his eyes fall shut, his thoughts surrounding the boy his mother professed to be his brother. He thought of his foolish bravery and his attention seeking habits, of how much he despised him.

He thought of how Potter should have been in Slytherin, of the conversation they'd had in the library, of how he'd grown up an orphan with a mad man out for his blood, of how he'd known the mark he bore but hadn't had him locked away, of how he tried to tell him there was always a choice.

Exhaustion from his recent ordeal stole over him moments later, his conflicting thoughts fading into the darkness as restless sleep claimed him.

000

Harry wasn't sure how he'd ended up here. He'd let his legs carry him where they willed and this was where they'd brought him. Breathing harshly, he leaned against the wall, sliding down it to land roughly on the floor. He drew his knees to his chest, eyes glued to the pool of blood that glimmered darkly in the yellow light. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd dueled in this lavatory with Malfoy, yet not even enough time had passed for the blood to completely dry.

How could his life have come crashing down so quickly?

He shut his eyes against the gruesome sight, burying his head in his arms. He thought of his mother, Lily Potter, and his father, James Potter. He remembered seeing their image in the Mirror of Erised, where they'd stood proudly on either side of him, smiling and happy. He heard their voices as their ghostly images had spoken to him that night in the graveyard, how they'd protected him long enough to get to the portkey and escape. He thought of the countless hours he'd spent looking at the album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year, how he'd memorized every picture of his parents, every expression and gesture. And, as if a Dementor was there in front of him, he heard his mother's scream as she sacrificed herself for him.

Lily and James were his parents. They _were _him. Hadn't he always been told he looked just like his father but with his mother's eyes? Weren't they the ones who'd given their lives to protect him, who he'd spent his whole life trying to make proud? Who was he if not Harry James Potter, their son?

Yet, even as his identity was ripped from him, everything that had happened since meeting Narcissa Malfoy in Diagon Alley made perfect sense. Now he understood why she'd asked for _his _help, why she'd given him her memories, why Snape had called her to Hogwarts, even why Snape was acting more civil towards him this term, because surely the professor must have known the truth.

_No!_ It wasn't true, it couldn't be true, he didn't want it to be true.

But even as his mind refused to accept the idea, his heart was recalling the love he'd seen in Narcissa's eyes in the hospital wing. It was the same love he'd seen in the memory she'd given him of his parents, the same love the Mirror of Erised had shown to him.

His lungs grew tight and his heart heavy. He didn't know what to believe anymore. His life had never been fair or normal, especially since coming to Hogwarts. But through everything, he'd always known who he was. He was the boy-who-lived, the Chosen One, the Gryffindor, his father and mother's son, their hope and legacy.

Now, he was only lost, confused, and so terribly alone.

Sometime later, he wasn't sure exactly how long, he heard the door open and footsteps approach. He kept his head down and his eyes closed. Maybe if he didn't move, whoever it was would simply go away.

"Evanesco," the silky voice of Snape echoed in the tiled room. Harry stiffened, but didn't raise his head. He didn't need to look to know that the Professor had vanished the blood staining the floor and walls.

"Come, you can't remain here," Snape said, and Harry felt a touch on his arm. Instinctively, he pulled away. He heard the older man sigh, and he could imagine the annoyance on his face.

"Harry," The use of his first name startled him enough that he snapped his head up to look at his Professor, eyes wide. Snape was standing directly above him, looking at him with what could almost be described as a pitying expression. "I must get you back to the hospital wing."

He shook his head widely. "I won't go back there," he whispered brokenly. "I can't face…" His throat closed, and his eyes burned with the threat of tears.

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave." There wasn't any malice in Snape's words, but he flinched harshly at them nonetheless.

"I shouldn't be a Gryffindor," he spat. "Given my… my _family_." He almost chocked on the last word. At least now he knew why the Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin.

"Lily and James were your family, Harry." There was his first name again, sounding so strange coming from Snape.

"No, they weren't!" he cried, angry at Snape, angry at his parents, angry at the Malfoys, angry at himself. "It was all just a lie!"

He barely had time to register the firm grip on his arm before he was being hulled to his feet, his eyes involuntarily rising to meet the sharp onyx gaze of his Potions professor. "Don't you ever say that again," Snape grounded out. "Lily loved you, she _died_ for you. And so did Potter. Do not ever forget that."

The heat of the older man's words cut through the haze of his own fury, the burning emotion quickly fleeing.

"I know," he said mournfully, looking away. "You're right."

The grip on his arm lessened significantly. "At least you've got some sense in you, Harry," Snape's tone was much more calm, almost regretful.

So tired from the events of the past few hours and surprised by his most hated professor's behavior, Harry allowed Snape to lead him out of the lavatory and through the halls. When they arrived at the hospital wing, they found it empty apart from Malfoy who'd fallen asleep. Snape pointed him towards the bed next to the blond boy's, and he settled into it without complaint. Shock finally overruled his system, and as soon as his eyes closed he was lost to dreams of what was and what could have been.

000

Harry woke up cold. Shuddering, he pulled the covers tighter, but something was off. These weren't his sheets, and the mattress below him didn't belong to his familiar four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. Snapping his eyes open, he reached to the side and grabbed his glasses. Shoving them on his face, he took in his surroundings. There was a curtain pulled around him, blocking the room from sight, but he'd been in the Hospital wing enough times to recognize where he was. He noticed with some surprise that he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, which he thought was odd. Surely Madam Pomfrey would never have allowed him to sleep in his clothes. He glanced over to his right and instantly froze.

Draco was sitting up in the bed next to his, also enclosed by the curtain, and was staring at him with a calculating expression. With a jolt, the memories of last night hit him hard in the chest, momentarily knocking the air from his lungs. He jerked his eyes away from the other boy, choosing to stare resolutely ahead. He leaned back into his pillow, wrapping the blankets around him. A few sluggish moments later, the memory of Snape retrieving him from the lavatory and leading him back to the Hospital wing came into focus.

A long silence followed in which neither he nor Draco moved. Harry could feel those grey eyes watching him, but he stubbornly kept his face turned away, hoping for Madam Pomfrey to walk in and provide a distraction, but none came. Eventually, shifting uncomfortably, he could take the staring no more. Irritated, he turned to look at Draco.

"What?" he snapped, but Draco continued to stare at him with the same, measured attitude.

"You've been asleep for a long time," he stated simply, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"How long?" he asked, slightly alarmed.

"It's after mid-day, at least. It's hard to tell with these infuriating curtains."

"I slept that long!" Harry exclaimed. "But where are my friends? What do they think happened to me?"

Draco shrugged in reply. "I don't know. Dumbledore probably made excuses for both of us."

"But…" Harry stuttered, not quite sure what to say. The entrance of Madam Pomfrey saved him as she quickly stepped in through a break in the curtain. She smiled at him.

"Ah, good, you're awake. I thought I heard voices," she said, coming to his side and checking him over quickly. "Now, how are you feeling, Harry?"

He hesitated a second before answering, uncomfortable. "Fine."

"Don't lie to me, you've suffered from quite a shock."

Harry shrugged, eyes darting briefly towards Draco. "A little tired, I guess. And I've got a bit of a headache."

Madam Pomfrey hummed a satisfied note, handing him a small bottle of headache reliever. "Drink that," she ordered. He downed the potion with a grimace, handing back the empty vial. "You're to stay in bed for the rest of the day." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to alert the Headmaster that you're both awake," she said, slipping back out of the enclosure, leaving them once again alone.

Awkward silence descended upon them, Harry determinedly looking anywhere but at Draco, and the blond fidgeting with a stray piece of string from his bed sheet. Several minutes later, the tension in the small place was disrupted again, although this time it was not by Madam Pomfrey. Instead, it was Dumbledore who stepped through the partition, looking particularly weary. The customary twinkle was decidedly absent from his aged eyes, but the old man smiled gently at them both.

"Harry," he addressed him. "It is good to see you awake and well." He turned and inclined his head to Draco. "You, too Draco. Madam Pomfrey tells me you appear to be recovering well." Draco didn't say anything, didn't even acknowledge Dumbledore's presence, but the Headmaster didn't seem fazed by the behavior.

A million questions entered his mind as Harry looked at Dumbledore, each one fighting for dominance. He needed the Headmaster to make sense of what had happened, to explain why his life had been a lie.

"Headmaster," Harry started, but his voice halted. He bit his lip, not knowing how to continue.

Dumbledore, seeing his plight, held up a thin hand. "I know you have questions, and you will get answers, but not from me. I've only come to apologize, Harry. I fear in trying to do what was right, I did the exact opposite. I only hope you can forgive an old man his mistakes."

Harry didn't know how to respond. It was not everyday you received such an apology from Albus Dumbledore, especially when you weren't even sure what it was for. It was obvious that the Headmaster had played a part in his current situation given the very loud argument between him and Narcissa the night before, but there were so many blanks that needed to be filled in before anything made some sort of sense. Not sure how he should respond, he remained silent, furrowing his brow as he stared up at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Of course, you do not know the whole tale," he said, peering over his spectacles, his gaze moving between them. "And it is not one for me to tell. I only wanted to try and explain, at least partially, before you hear the whole truth."

The Headmaster pulled back the curtain, motioning for someone. The sharp tap of heels on the stone floor echoed off the high vaulted ceiling, and Harry's heart sped up in his chest as he realized just whom Dumbledore was calling over. He wasn't ready to see her. The image of her face, broken and tear stained, floated before his eyes.

Fighting to control his breathing, he shot a nervous glance at Draco. The other boy was eyeing him with a calculating expression, his mouth pulled down in a small frown. Time seemed to malfunction, the moment it took for Narcissa to step into view taking ages and a split second all at once. And suddenly he was out of time, his eyes unwillingly meeting hers as she slipped into the enclosed space. She looked much the worse for wear. Her hair was askew, and dark bags rested under her eyes. Her lips were pale and dry, and her clothes were wrinkled. She looked as if she hadn't slept at all.

"I'll take my leave," Dumbledore murmured, slipping out into the Hospital wing, letting the curtains close behind him. Narcissa seemed barely to notice his departure.

She didn't say anything, just stared at him with trepidation. Tentatively, she took a few steps closer to him. Harry couldn't help it; he flinched, scooting to the far edge of his bed. He regretted the action as soon as he saw the devastated look on Narcissa's face, but he couldn't take it back if he wanted to. Even her being this near made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. He wanted to run away so badly, to escape her emotional grey eyes, but he knew he had to stay. He needed answers, and she was the only one who could give them.

Narcissa backed away, instead approaching Draco and sitting down on the edge of his bed. Draco flicked his eyes back and forth between him and his mother with a stony expression, not revealing any of his thoughts. She reached out and grabbed his hand.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"I'll be okay, mother," Draco told her, still watching Harry and her closely.

Narcissa looked to him, her expression hopeful. "And you, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer. What did she expect him to say? That he was fine when in truth he was about as far from it as was possible? Instead, he kept his mouth shut and stared determinedly down at his hands.

He heard Narcissa let out a breath before she continued, saying, "I know I owe you an explanation… both of you an explanation." There was a shaky intake of breath. "This is hard for me to say, and I know it will be hard to hear, but you must listen."

"Yes, mother," Draco replied, but Harry wasn't so willing to agree.

"How can I trust anything you have to say?" he questioned, meeting her eyes for the first time. "How do I know this isn't some deranged Death Eater plot?"

Harry knew he was being irrational, after all, Dumbledore had all but out rightly admitted that what had been divulged last night was the unadulterated truth, but he couldn't help himself. This being another plot on his life, no matter how ridiculous of one, was an easier idea to stomach than this woman actually being his mother.

Narcissa looked saddened, but held out to him a folded piece of parchment he hadn't noticed her holding before. "Here," she offered. "Dumbledore gave this to me. It's a letter from Lily."

With wide eyes, Harry reverently took the old letter from Narcissa. Carefully, he opened it, taking a moment to simply stare at the flowing handwriting. He began to read.

_28 October 1981_

_Albus,_

_I feel compelled to send you this letter, Albus, in the case that James and I do not survive this war. It is my hope that what follows will be unnecessary, but I have a terrible feeling that my time is running short._

_Firstly, know that Narcissa Malfoy is not what she seems. For years now, she has been my closest and dearest friend, a relationship we kept hidden for obvious reasons. Do not judge her by the deeds of her husband, for I assure you she is no more a supporter of Voldemort than James and I. She is simply trapped in the middle of this war like the rest of us, wishing only to protect her family. I would trust her with my life, and I know she would say the same._

_Secondly, only James, Narcissa, and myself know the secret I am about to reveal. Much sacrifice and hard work went into our subterfuge, and I ask that you do not take your inclusion lightly._

_I shall not waste anymore time._

_Harry is not mine or James' biological son. His mother, Narcissa, gave him to us on the day of his birth. I do not have time to explain the reasons for our actions, nor is it necessary for you to understand. I only tell you this so that he may be given back to Narcissa if anything should happen to us. He deserves to grow up with a family._

_Even though Harry is not biologically ours, we love him dearly. He is as much my son as he is hers. And I know James feels the same. We would give our lives for him. Please make sure he knows how much we loved him. _

_Keep him safe._

_Lily Potter_

The yellowed parchment fell from his numb fingers. He could feel wetness stinging his eyes but he refused to let his tears fall. Not here, not in front of them.

It was true, so terribly and horribly true. Feeling empty and hollow, he turned dull eyes to Narcissa. He stared at her, at his mother, and felt nothing but loss. Loss of himself, of the people who had raised and loved him, of the life he could've had if they survived, but he did not feel the loss of his birth family. He had no desire to claim them as such. Yet still, he _had _to know her reasons. Lily's letter had not explained, and he couldn't live with himself if he didn't find out the motivation behind their actions.

"Why?" he whispered, almost pleading. Every question running through his head summed up into one tiny, monumental word.

Narcissa looked like she wanted to reach out to him, he could see the struggle on her face. Instead, she reached out and grasped Draco's hand, her knuckles white. "There isn't an easy answer," she said, sniffing.

When he didn't respond, she sighed, her eyes staring at a spot on the curtain, and began her explanation.

"Harry, you already know what I'm about to say, but for you, Draco, I must start at the beginning for there is much about my past that you do not know."

Draco sat up straighter in his bed, knitting his eyebrows. "How does he know more than me?" he asked with a small amount of indignation.

"I will explain later, but please, do not ask me any questions until I've finished," responded Narcissa quietly yet firm.

After a moment's hesitation, Draco nodded, and she proceeded.

"Lily Evans, as she was called before she married, and I where in the same year at Hogwarts, but it was not until sixth year that we became more than acquaintances. This was partly due to our mutual friendship with Severus, but even he was unaware until recently of how close our friendship truly was. At the time, tensions were increasing between Slytherin and Gryffindor due to the first rise of the Dark Lord, so, to protect ourselves, we hid our friendship. When Lily and James Potter began dating, he discovered our secret. I won't say we got along right away, but over time I came to call him my friend as well.

"After Hogwarts, I was promised and married to Lucius. He wanted to start a family, wanted an heir, but I resisted. By this time, he was already a Death Eater, and I feared what the Dark Lord might do to my family. As I'm sure you've guessed, Draco, I do not believe the same as your father. I had always thought that it was skill and talent that made the wizard, not blood, and my friendship with Lily only served to solidify my beliefs. But because of my husband and his position, I kept my views private, not wishing to instill the attention of the Dark Lord, for even then he was half mad with power.

"It was my greatest fear that my child would be raised under the rule of the Dark Lord, taught his twisted philosophy, forced into his service…" she trailed off, and Harry shifted to look at Draco. His face was pasty white, his hand gripped tightly over the place the Dark mark was branded into his skin. He turned his face away from them, but not before Harry caught a flicker of pain dance across his expression.

"I was so careful," Narcissa continued, her eyes sad, haunted by the ghosts of the past. Harry found himself unable to look away as she spoke. "But, one day, a miracle happened." She smiled softly, first at Draco and then at him. "I found out I was pregnant."

Harry twitched at the obvious motherly affection, a look he couldn't help feeling was all wrong coming from the normally cold, prestigious looking woman before him.

"I went to Lily as soon as I got the news. I should have been overjoyed, but the only thing I felt was fear. I was afraid for my child, of the life they would have. I promised myself to do all I could to protect them. So, that very day, Lily and I came up with a plan. It was not easy to convince her to go along, but eventually she gave in.

"I was going to hide the pregnancy from Lucius. It would be tricky, but he was gone often on Death Eater business, and I was good at charms. Then, when the baby was born, Lily and James would take him or her and raise them as their own. I knew Lily and James were involved with the war, too, but practically everyone was then. And short from giving my child to a muggle, it was the safest thing I could think of. Plus, Lily had discovered that she couldn't have children, and this was the greatest gift I could give her."

Harry looked sharply at Narcissa at this revelation, it being wholly unexpected. He wasn't sure what to think about this bit of information, but had no time to dwell as Narcissa kept on with her story. Now that she'd begun talking, she seemed unable to stop, the words spilling out of her like an overflowing well. A side-effect of holding in a dark secret for nearly sixteen years, he assumed.

"But," Narcissa's expression became pained. "With only a month left, Lucius unexpectedly arrived home and accidently discovered I was pregnant. We had a fierce argument, and he left right after, but the damage had been done." Here she paused, looking morosely at him and then Draco, regret and guilt mixed in her grey eyes. "I knew there was no way to save my child now that he knew. I thought about lying and saying the child had died and continuing through with the plan, but it was too risky. Lucius might think it too suspicious after hiding the pregnancy from him. So it was with the realization that my plan had failed that I went into early labor."

She picked up Draco's hand again, saying, "Lily and James accompanied me to the Hospital. James used his rank as an Auror to pull some strings and give us a private room with only one doctor to assist. Then, I received the greatest surprise of my life… I gave birth to twins." Narcissa paused, watching their reaction.

Harry's eyes flew wide and he stared at Draco who was in a similar state of astonishment. Somehow, this possibility hadn't entered his mind, not even for a second. It was one thing to think of the blond haired boy as his brother, but it was something else entirely to think of him as his twin. Unbidden images of Fred and George flashed to the forefront of his mind, causing him to shake his head forcefully. Somehow, he didn't think he and Draco would ever be finishing each other sentences. His harried thoughts were interrupted as Narcissa started speaking again, continuing on with her sad tale.

"Yes, twin boys," she repeated, driving the truth home. "Suddenly, I found myself a mother twice over. And with this thought, a new idea surfaced, a way to at least save one of my children. It was," here, she paused, dragging in a painful breath. "The _hardest_ decision I've ever made in my life. I held you both in my arms, and you were so precious and tiny, I fell instantly in love with you both."

Tears slipped from her eyes, trailing slowly down her cheeks. "Then, I handed my eldest baby boy by two minutes over to Lily and told her he was her son."

Harry didn't know what to feel as her eyes found his, beginning to understand what kind of an impossible situation Narcissa had found herself in. Some part of him wanted to embrace her and help ease her pain, but the anger and confusion outweighed his compassion. He wasn't ready to get close to this woman, and, frankly, he didn't know if he ever would be.

"And that was it," she said, sniffing. "The doctor made two birth certificates, one real and one fake, and then agreed to be obliviated. She herself had lost her son to the war, and sympathized with what we were trying to do. So, Lily and James took you home, Harry, and I took you, Draco, back to Lucius. In that first year, I visited the Potters often, many times bringing Draco with me. You two boys would play on the floor while we watched on. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Awkwardly, he exchanged an uncomfortable look with Draco at Narcissa's description of their baby selves' actions. He'd only had a mother for less than a day and already she was embarrassing him.

"Then, one day, Lily and James disappeared. It was only later, after their death that I found out they'd been forced into hiding, not having anytime to alert people of their plans."

She turned to look directly at him, her hand reaching over to rest on his bed, inches away from his own fingers. "The day I heard about what had happened at Godric's Hallow was the worst day of my life. For a while, I didn't even know where you were Harry. I wanted so badly to see you, to hold you and make sure you were truly safe and alive," she trailed off, pulling her hand back to herself after a few moments. "But Dumbledore hid you away, and I never got the chance. I could only hope you were safe wherever you were.

"When you both started Hogwarts, I was at once overjoyed and crushed. You were alive, Harry, but you and Draco quickly became enemies, and my twins who should have been close were constantly at odds with each other. The years wore on, and I was forced to pretend that I didn't care for you. Then, Lucius was sent to Azkaban, and Draco was… was forced to…" she swallowed, and Draco squeezed her hand back comfortingly.

"That's when I decided enough was enough. I asked for your help Harry, hoping that in the process you two would come to respect one another. But, alas, again my plan did not succeed… and you both know the rest."

A heavy silence followed the end of Narcissa's story, no one quite sure how to proceed. His own thoughts were a twisted mess. He wasn't the son of James and Lily Potter, the people who had died for him, the people he had spent his life dreaming of and trying to make proud. No, he was the son of a Death Eater, and the brother of his hated classmate who was now also a Death Eater. He was supposed to be the champion of the light, the bloody _Chosen One_, and instead he was a dark wizard himself.

He turned his gaze to Narcissa, the hot sting of tears teasing his eyes. "You're really my mother?" he whispered, barely aware that he was speaking aloud.

Narcissa's eyes shone as she reached over and grasped his hand keenly. "Yes, Harry, I am," she answered him.

Despite his best efforts, tears began to fall from his eyes. All his life, all he'd ever wanted was a family, but never had dreamed of this. Finding out his mother and father were still alive and that he had a brother should have been amazing news, a miracle. Instead, he felt crushed, filled with self-loathing and disgust and anger.

He felt a weight on his bed before a slim pair of arms wrapped protectively around him. The embrace broke his last wall, and his quiet tears turned into muffled cries as he buried his face in Narcissa's shoulder, too tired to care anymore.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered into his ear. "I always have."

And, despite everything, Harry believed her.

000

Sorry for the wait. No guarantees when the next chapter will be up. RL is going to be pretty busy until half way through January (Thanksgiving, birthdays, Christmas, wedding, another wedding in which I'm a bridesmaid, and a trip to Disney World and Universal Studios (Harry Potter World!)), and then I'll be starting classes again. But there will be more updates! I'm not abandoning this story. Harry and Draco would drive me crazy if I stopped before it was finished ;)


	9. Chapter 8

**The Bond of Brothers**

_Disclaimer – refer to Chapter One._

_First and foremost__ – There have been so many lives lost in my country over the last several weeks, from the Boston Bombings, to the explosion in Texas, the tornadoes also in Texas, and yesterday the tornado that ripped through Oklahoma. My heart and prayers go to all those who have lost loved ones and have had their lives affected by these terrible events. God bless you and God bless America._

_Sorry for an errors. I was tired, but I really wanted to get this up for you guys. More notes at the end._

**Chapter Eight**

Unlike the boy wonder in the bed next to his, for Draco, sleep remained elusive. He stared blankly up at the ceiling, his eyes long ago having adjusted to the dark. His body still ached faintly from the spell Potter had used on him yesterday, and he longed to give in to his fatigue, but every time he closed his eyes, images from this afternoon haunted him. The expression on his mother's face when she looked at Potter, the way she held him as he cried, and the tears in her eyes when he pulled uncomfortably away from her minutes later; it all left an inexplicable feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he couldn't identify, or maybe one he just refused to admit to. She'd left soon after, promising to come back later, her shoulders hunched over in a decidedly defeated posture as she'd ducked out of the partition.

He'd tried to call out to her, to demand answers to his questions, but he'd stunned silent by the scene he'd just witnessed. Briefly, he'd contemplated pressing Potter for more information as to why he'd known facts about his mother's past that he himself hadn't a clue of, but one look at the Gryffindor's face told him that any effort to get him to talk would prove futile. Potter had looked part sick, part dumbstruck, his face pale and eyes rimmed in red from his recent bought of tears. Grudgingly, he'd admitted to himself that Potter's shock at the recent turn of events was greater than his own. Draco had learned of a long lost sibling, while Potter had found out that everything he'd ever been told was a lie. So, for a reason he was still unsure of, he'd decided to take pity and leave Potter to his own assuredly troubled thoughts.

The silence between them was only broken twice for the rest of the day, each time by Pomfrey bringing them a late lunch and supper. It was when she arrived with the latter that she informed them they would both be released tomorrow morning, but that they were to meet with the Headmaster before attending their morning classes. Draco had hoped to see his mother again that night, but she remained absent. Whether because she was thinking of Potter's feelings, or because she couldn't face either of them so soon after divulging the truth, he couldn't be sure. Not long after the sun had set, Potter had turned on his side, his breathing quickly evening out as he fell asleep.

That had been several hours ago. And still here he was, awake, thinking.

A slight scuffling noise interrupted his musings, and Draco's eyes flicked in the direction of the doors, silently cursing the blasted partition for the hundredth time. He strained his ears, and, sure enough, he could hear soft footsteps approaching. Curious as to not only why someone would be up this late, but also why they were taking such care to be unheard, he decided to feign sleep and quickly shut his eyes. No sooner had he done so then he heard the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and the rustle of fabric as the mysterious visitor moved in between his and Potter's beds.

"What's Malfoy doing in here with him?" Draco heard the person hiss, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from spouting off a retort at the all too familiar voice of Weasley.

"I don't know," came a second voice, and Draco held back a groan. He should have guessed Granger wouldn't have let Weasley sneak out on his own. "But be quiet, we don't want to wake him," she whispered.

There was the soft groan of a mattress, and he guessed that Granger had sat down next to Potter. "Harry," she muttered. "Harry, wake up, it's us."

"Mmhmm," was Potter's muffled response.

"Mate, come on."

Draco heard Potter turn over and reach for his glasses on the table between them. There was a beat of silence, then, "Ron, 'Mione? Wha' are you doin' here?"

"Checking on you, of course."

"Yeah, McGonagall wouldn't tell us anything."

"_Professor_ McGonagall, Ronald."

"Anyways, what happened, mate? And why are you roomed up with Malfoy?" Weasley practically spat out his name.

Draco could hear more rustling, then Potter whispered worriedly, "He still asleep?"

A pause followed in which Draco made sure to keep his breathing slow and even. "Yes," came Granger's voice. "He is. Now will you tell us why you ended up in the hospital wing? _Again?_" Her disapproval of Potter's current situation was clear.

"It was nothing," Potter mumbled. Brilliant, Draco thought sarcastically, that will really satisfy Granger. Good thinking.

"Nothing doesn't put you in the infirmary, mate," scoffed Weasley.

"Tell us the truth, Harry."

"It was just a stupid fight," Potter tried again. "Honestly, nothing to worry about. I'm getting released in the morning."

"A fight with Malfoy?" Granger pressed.

"Yeah, but-"

"Nice going, Harry." Weasley's whisper was promptly followed by a thwack, which he assumed was Granger's hand hitting his head. "Ow, Hermione, what was that for?"

"Don't encourage him, Ron!" snapped Granger. "And Harry, what were you thinking, starting a duel with Malfoy?"

"Who said I started it?"

"Why else did you take off sprinting for the castle leaving Katie and us behind without saying anything?"

"It's not what you think, Hermione, I…"

"Yes?"

Draco held his breath, wondering what Potter was going to say next.

"I… can't explain, okay? Not right now." There was a noise of protest from Granger. "Please, Hermione, just drop it. I promise I won't do it again."

"Fine," Granger whispered, and Draco could imagine the look of displeasure on her face. "I'm just glad you're okay, Harry," she continued in a softer tone.

"Yeah, we've all been worried about you, Harry. But, honestly, why are you roomed up with this git?" Again, Draco had to force himself to keep quite.

"I dunno," was Potter's intelligent mumbled response. "Maybe Dumbledore wanted us to get over our differences or something."

"Yeah right. Not bloody likely. Malfoy's a slimy Slytherin who-"

"Shut up, Ron," Potter forcefully interrupted what was sure to be a colorful tirade from Weasley, taking Draco completely by surprise.

"What, Harry? He's the reason you're in the hospital wing!" Weasley whispered angrily.

"No," Potter said quickly. "I mean, yes, he is, but not how you think."

"What do you mean, Harry?" asked Granger, obviously confused.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Potter answered, his words so quiet Draco had to strain to hear them. "It was my fault. I… _I _hurt _him_."

"Harry, what happened?" Granger's voice was soft, subdued.

Potter shifted on his bed. "Thanks for coming to check on me, but I'm really tired. I'll see you tomorrow in class."

After a few seconds, her heard Granger stand up. "Alright, Harry. We'll see you tomorrow." Then Granger and Weasley left, their footsteps fading away as they snuck back out into the corridor.

Draco kept his eyes closed, pondering over the conversation he'd just heard and what exactly Potter's answers meant. He always assumed the Golden Trio told each other everything, but Potter obviously didn't want to tell his friends what had happened, about their duel or what they'd learned afterward.

He finally fell asleep sometime later, his jumbled thoughts causing him to spend a fitful night full of odd dreams he couldn't remember upon waking.

000

The partition was pulled back unexpectedly the next morning, startling Harry. He'd been lost in his thoughts since he'd woken up sometime ago, making a point to ignore Draco on the other side of the small space.

"Follow me," said Snape, his face impassive as he flicked his gaze between them. "I'm to escort you to the Headmaster."

The trek to Dumbledore's office was filled with tense silence, both Harry and Draco walking fast to keep up with the clipped pace of their professor. They didn't pass any stray students seeing as breakfast had already started in the Great Hall. When they reached the Gargoyle, it jumped aside with a quiet word from Snape, and they all three climbed the spiral staircase.

Reaching the top, Snape opened the door and strode into the office, not sparing a glance behind him. Harry took a deep breath, shooting a nervous glance to his side. Cool grey eyes met his, and he quickly dropped his gaze. He stepped hastily into the office, only to stop short when he caught sight of the person already seated in front of the Headmaster's desk. Narcissa turned to look at him, her eyes looking even more tired then when he'd seen her yesterday.

"Harry, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore greeted them without any of his usual enthusiasm. "Please, take a seat." He gestured to the two empty chairs on either side of Narcissa. Draco swept past him, gracefully settling himself in the seat to his mother's right. Swallowing his urge to run away, Harry managed to move his feet forward, lowering himself cautiously into the last vacant seat. He kept his eyes trained forward, not able to look at Narcissa after having broken down crying in her arms yesterday.

"Now," Dumbledore started, clasping his hands over his desk. "There are a few matters we must discuss that are of grave importance, the first of which being that the truth of Harry's parentage must not leave this room. This information in the wrong hands could prove most dangerous. You must not speak of it to anyone, not even your friends." At this, Dumbledore looked straight at him.

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled. He hadn't intended to tell them anyways. It was bad enough simply imagining their reactions when they heard who is true family was; he didn't need to see them real life.

"It is also important that your behavior towards each other not change, as well," Dumbledore continued, only to be interrupted by Narcissa.

"You can't mean they must continue to act as enemies?" she asked, sounding outraged. "I won't allow it. They are brothers!" Both Harry and Draco flinched at the reminder of their redefined relationship.

"Narcissa, they must keep up appearances, otherwise undue attention will be directed towards them. We can't risk the Dark Lord finding out and doubting Draco's loyalties," Snape answered for Dumbledore, speaking plainly.

Narcissa deflated some, although she looked far from happy. "I suppose you are right, Severus, but is this how it must always be? Will they never have the chance to get to know one another?"

"I believe I have a solution," spoke up Dumbledore, a hint of his familiar twinkle sparking in his eyes. "Harry is already receiving private instruction from Professor Snape in Occlumency. I would like for Mr. Malfoy to join in these lessons as well."

"What!" Harry couldn't help but speak up at this announcement. Those lessons were bad enough with only Snape as a witness, he didn't want Draco to see him repeatedly fail as well.

"Why is Harry learning Occlumency?" Narcissa demanded at the same time, while Draco glanced between them, brow furrowed in confusion.

Dumbledore ignored his outburst, and instead turned his attention towards Narcissa. "Harry shares a special connection to Voldemort. It is necessary for him to learn how to shield his mind."

Narcissa's eyes grew wide, and the blood drained from her face. "What do you mean, they share a special connection?"

"Harry, perhaps you would like to explain?" Dumbledore looked to him over the top of his spectacles.

He shifted uncomfortably as he felt the stares of both Narcissa and Draco on him. He licked his lips, his throat suddenly very dry. "I… get visions… sometimes. Flashes, really."

"Visions of what?" Narcissa asked, her voice quiet.

"Different things. Death Eater meetings. Sometimes I can feel his emotions."

Harry could see Narcissa grip the armrest of her chair at his confession, her knuckles white. He chanced a look at her expression. Her face was frozen in a mask of horror and concern.

"But," Draco interrupted the silence. "Why do I need to learn, too?"

"Voldemort is an accomplished Legilimens, Mr. Malfoy. If we hope to keep this secret from being discovered, then you must learn to shield your mind from him as well. It is as much for your own safety as it is for Harry's and your parents'," replied Dumbledore, his tone grave.

"Your lessons will be under the guise of detentions," Snape added, not looking any happier about the situation than Harry felt. "Detentions that will be served every Friday until the end of term."

"Why detentions? No one will ever believe that both Malfoy and I have detentions together every week?" Harry protested.

"Yes, they will, Harry," said Dumbledore. "The entire school has been made aware that a duel took place between the two of you, causing you both to be placed in the hospital wing. The detentions are to serve as your punishment. This will satisfy the other professors and provide an excellent cover for lessons."

Harry was still far from happy about this new situation, but he grudgingly mumbled, "Fine," crossing his arms to show his displeasure.

"That is settled then. Now," Dumbledore looked at them each. "Do any of you have any questions?"

"Is it because of what happened that night?" Narcissa asked softly, her hand reaching out as if to touch his scar. "The night Lily and James died? Is that why they have a connection?" Harry leaned away from her, and her arm dropped abruptly back to her side.

Dumbledore inclined his head, "Yes."

"Wait," Harry said suddenly, I thought striking him that he couldn't believe he hadn't considered as soon as he'd discovered that Lily and James Potter were not his biological parents. However, now that it had occurred to him, he desperately latched onto it. "When was I born?" He turned frantically to Narcissa. "My birthday? When is it?"

Narcissa stared at him, not sure what to make of his sudden difference in manner. "That was the only thing we didn't change," she told him, and Harry felt his heart plummet into the vicinity of his stomach. "You were born one minute before midnight on the thirty-first of July, and Draco was born two minutes later on the first of August."

"But," Harry sputtered, feeling like his lifeline was slipping through his fingers. He looked to Dumbledore. "No! It can't be me… it just can't! Not anymore! Can it?"

Dumbledore gazed at him sadly, "Harry…"

"No," he murmured, putting his head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut. For the briefest of moments, he'd thought his burden was gone, thought that his future was his own. And now his last shred of hope was gone, however fleeting it had been, and the finality of his situation was crushing.

"I don't understand," Narcissa said. "What are you talking about Harry? Why is your birthday important."

Harry didn't respond, it taking all of his strength to keep his composure. He was determined not to break down as he had down yesterday. He wasn't a child, he was nearly an adult, and adults don't cry every five minutes.

There was a soft touch on his arm. He opened his eyes to see Narcissa watching him with worry, her hand hesitantly offering comfort. He looked to Dumbledore, not knowing what to say.

"I feel secure in saying that anything spoken in this office will not leave it, Harry." Dumbledore gestured to Narcissa and Draco. "They are you're family, my boy. It is up to you."

Harry glanced at his… family's… faces. Narcissa's was full of motherly concern while Draco's was serious, a glint in his eye that let Harry know if he didn't give him something, the other boy wouldn't stop until he found out what was going on.

Sighing, he said, "There's a prophecy…"

A sharp intake of breath stopped him from elaborating any further. Narcissa had brought her hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide. "Please, no," she whispered, her voice quivering. "This is… this is why you where in the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry moved his eyes to the floor, nodding, the memories from that night still painful.

"I," Narcissa whispered. "Lucius had mentioned… but I didn't want to believe it."

"Are you saying," Draco cut in, sounding disbelieving. "That all the rubbish the Prophet's been publishing about you is true? That you're some kind of _Chosen One_?"

Harry glared at him, anger rising. "Yes," he snapped.

"You can't be serious?" Draco scoffed. "Well, then, I guess we're all doomed if we've got you for a savior."

"And what would you know, Malfoy?" Harry retorted, just barely keeping himself from yelling. "At least I'm not running around cursing innocent people like a good little servant!"

Draco shot to his feet, hands clenched at his sides, his face pale. "Shut up, Potter! You don't know what you're talking about!"

He jumped up from his seat, but before he could respond Narcissa stood up in between them, commanding, "Boys, enough!" She whipped her head back and forth glaring at them both. "Sit down, both of you."

Her words left no room for argument. Harry sat down reluctantly, noting how eerily similar Narcissa had sounded to Molly Weasley in that moment. Draco, too, sat down, though his grey eyes remained hard, his lips pressed into a thin line. Belatedly, he realized this was the first time he was being scolded by his mother.

Seeing that both of them were complying, Narcissa schooled her expression. "I think that is enough for today, Headmaster," she said coolly. "But do not think this conversation is over."

"I think you are right, Mrs. Malfoy," Dumbledore acquiesced. "Further conversation would be best left for another day. The events of this weekend have been taxing on us all."

Narcissa inclined her head. "I will be in touch." She moved towards the door, Draco standing and following without a word to the Headmaster.

"Professor," Harry spoke up, making Narcissa pause with her hand on the door. "I was wondering if I could speak to you alone."

Dumbledore peered at him, his eyes looking older than he'd ever seen them. "Of course, Harry." He looked towards Snape who had remained impassive off to the side. "If you'll excuse us Severus."

"Headmaster," Snape said, sweeping to the door where Narcissa still stood, looking at him.

"Harry," she called his name, her expression conflicted. He forced himself to meet her eyes. "I just… good-bye, Harry."

He swallowed. "Bye."

With a look of longing, she disappeared down the stair case, Draco close behind. Snape followed, shutting the door with a sharp rap.

Finally alone with the Headmaster, Harry turned to him. Neither of them said anything at first, the only sound the soft whirring of the various instruments scattered about the office and the muffled snores from the portraits of past Headmasters. He slipped his hand into his pocket, brushing his fingers of the worn parchment of the letter Narcissa had given him yesterday, the letter addressed to Dumbledore from Lily Potter.

After a few weighty seconds, Harry looked into the eyes of the man he had come to respect and trust over the last five years, and said, "You always knew, didn't you."

It wasn't a question, but Dumbledore answered anyways. "Yes, I've known for fifteen years."

"And you kept it from me."

"Yes."

"I had a right to know."

"I know."

"Then, why?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under some invisible weight. "Everything I did, Harry, was to keep you safe."

Harry couldn't hold back a bark of bitter laughter. "When in my life have I ever been _safe_, Headmaster?"

"I am sorry, Harry," said Dumbledore. "It is true, I have failed you on more than one occasion."

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again." And Harry meant it. If Dumbledore had lied about this, then was there truly no limit to his meddling? Not only had he hid the truth of his parentage from him, but he went against Lily's last wishes in her letter and kept him from a mother that would have surely loved him. A childhood with Lucius Malfoy as a father may not have been pleasant, but certainly it would have been better than living in a cupboard, unloved and unwanted, called freak and mistreated by people who were not even his true relatives.

"I understand, Harry." Dumbledore looked sincere, but Harry had come to realize the man's acting prowess and couldn't trust what he was seeing.

Harry stood up, his face hard. "I have more questions, but I can't stand to look at you right now, Professor. I'm sorry."

With that, he quickly left the office and the man who had been pulling the strings of his life for far too long. Harry Potter was done being a puppet.

000

When they reached the empty corridor outside the Headmaster's office, Snape turned to him and said, "Breakfast is nearly over. I'll give you a moment to say good-bye and then I will escort you to your dormitory to retrieve your books for class." With a nod of farewell to his mother, Snape moved several meters away, allowing them privacy.

His mother reached up and smoothed back his hair, smiling softly. "Be good, Draco. And please try to get along," she said, and he didn't need to ask to whom she was referring.

"Mother," he said, wetting his lips. "Can I ask you one question?"

She looked at him, eyes gentle. "What is it?"

"Why him?" he asked, the one question that had been burning in him since her long explanation yesterday.

Her brow crinkled in confusion. "What do you mean, sweet heart?"

Draco looked nervously down at his feet, ashamed of his own insecurities. Malfoys were not weak. "Why did you try to save him, and not me?"

"Oh, Draco," she whispered, brushing a thumb across his cheek.

"Did you love him more?" his words were barely even a whisper as he gave voice to the suspicion that had been growing in his heart.

His mother put a hand under his chin, forcing him to look up at her. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. "From the moment I knew I was pregnant," she spoke softly, slowly, making sure he was listening to every word. "I promised Harry to Lily and James. He was always going to be theirs. But you, Draco," she paused, smiling at him, lovingly taking in his features with her eyes. "You were my own miracle. You were all mine."

Draco stubbornly blinked back tears. His mother's arms snaked around him and pulled him into a fierce embrace. "I love you, both of you, more than you can ever know," she whispered in his ear. Then, pulling away, she added, "And don't you ever doubt that."

Working past the lump in his throat, Draco responded, "I love you, too, mother."

His mother smiled. "I'll see you soon, son." And then she was gone.

Draco turned and walked to where his professor was waiting for him. They made their way in silence for a few minutes as they descended into the dungeons. When they were almost to the Slytherin dormitory, Snape cleared his throat.

"I trust you understand how vital it is to your own safety, as well as to your parents, that the Dark Lord does not learn about your relationship to Potter?"

He looked at his professor calculatingly. "Or about your own loyalties?"

Snape stiffened imperceptibly, but stayed silent.

Draco grinned to himself at having his assumptions about the dour professor proven correct. "I understand, sir."

"See that you do, Mr. Malfoy," Snape replied coldly. They stopped in front of the entrance to the common room. "Friday evening, 8 o'clock sharp. Do not be late." With that reminder of his 'detention', his professor swept off in the direction of the potions classroom, his black robe billowing out behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Draco carefully reconstructed his aloof Slytherin mask. Giving the password, he stepped regally into the common room, appearing to all the world as if nothing had changed.

000

_End Chapter_

_Alrighty, folks. Hey, look! I updated! Yeah… sorry for the long wait. Life was hectic, and thanks to the winter that just wouldn't go away, I suffered from more than one nasty cold. All that aside, I had one heck of a time getting over some major writers block. I've got several parts later in this story all written out, but was struggling with how to actually get to those points. Anyways, hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint too much! _

_Not sure when I'll be updating again. I'm going on a missions trip to South Africa in July and will hopefully be transferring to a new college as well as changing majors in the fall so I'll just have to see how things go. But, hey, I won't be giving up on this story any time soon. Honestly, Harry and Draco wouldn't ever leave me alone if I did! :)_

_As always, review!_


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